YEARS SINCE THE ARC
by SchultzBear
Summary: It is Year 5,162 Since the Arc when Coda Fellroot, a 19-year-old university pupil, is thrown into Pokkén's second world war where history is doomed to repeat itself.
1. Preface (WFTN)

**YEARS SINCE THE ARC**

 **Preface**

 _Run. Breathe. Right. Jump down. Pick yourself up. Look back. Damn. Left. Right. Run. Run. RUN._ He blindly threw himself forward through the hot archipelago jungle of the outlying islands of the Kanto region. He couldn't see anything. It was nighttime when they struck and it had only been an hour. _Right? How long has it been? Where are they? Where am I? Where is my faction? Oh gods, I'm gonna die out here. I'm gonna die. That damned_ tauros _did nothing for me. Military monster, my ass. That damned thing did nothing for me. It's been a week since I've written to Mother. I didn't tell Mariana that she was –_

His foot caught the twisted root of a tree and he fell harshly to the rocky, dry ground. He winced in pain from his new wounds, but his body astoundingly kept him moving. He had no other choice. He wanted to live. _Oh gods, let me live. I'm so young._ "I'm too young", he choked as tears streamed down his cheek from pain and fear. He felt his throat close up and his chest get tight. The fight and flight feelings that had kept him alive since this ordeal began were slowly fading, giving way to feelings of hopelessness and impending doom. _No_. He had to keep moving, anywhere. He heard something behind him, a breaking of branches and a soft hiss. Wind rustled the trees, moving the hot breeze through the land, and with it the stench of blood and death from the corners of the world. From Hoenn and Sinnoh.

He didn't wait to see what the sound was coming from and ran another desperate mile before his panic became paralyzing and his pain became unbearable. Haphazardly looking for any haven, a large tree with gigantic roots provided what looked like a little crook to take respite. He collapsed in between the cool bark of the large roots and listened. His legs were numb from pain and exhaustion and he strained to hear above the blood pumping through his head, fueling thoughts he'd thought he'd never experience. _Nothing. I hear nothing. Thank Arceus._ He grabbed his pack off the ground next to him, opened it and grabbed some bandages. He started wrapping up his leg, going over the things he'd been through just in the past month. His life had changed so much since his eighteenth birthday.

It was the Year 4,823 Since the Arc. His entrance into adulthood was overshadowed by the world war between the Pokkén nations. Hoenn and Sinnoh laid claim to the continent of Fiore and moved on Kanto and Johto. The two connected countries aligned themselves against the others and mandated all able-bodied men to join the fight. There was no promise of victory. There was no promise the men would return home. All of them, eighteen to fifty, would be sent to their local gym centers to train with their Guard and Gatekeepers. They would be given military Pokkén-monsters and learn to train them as quickly as they could. There was no time to wait. _Gods, if I could go back. I'd tell Mariana I loved her. I'd ask her to run away with me. I should've… I don't wanna die._ He didn't even name his _tauros_. It seemed so trivial during the preparations for war, but now, he wished he did. He used to say that one day he'd train a monster and earn his hometown badge, just to say he could. He would have gotten a job at the local foundry and marry Mariana. _Oh, gods. Come on, dammit. Stay alive. Don't die. Get the hell outta here._ He collected himself, grabbed his pack, took a deep breath and stood up.

And there, suspended above him, was the _seviper_ he'd been running from for the last hour.

It was massive. The indigo reptilian devil was hanging from the low branches of the tree, as the higher branches would break under the weight of its girth. It was well over twenty feet in length and only a large man would have been able to wrap his arms around it. Its red eyes were stationed upon a massive head ordained with yellow patterns that mesmerized him. Looking into its eyes, he felt deep comfort that relinquished his shock and gave him a peace that would seem quite contradictory in a setting such as this. The _seviper_ teased out its large forked tongue, fluttering it lightly as if it were a leaf in the hot jungle winds, savoring its prey that it had already won. The _seviper_ glided yet even closer to him, now only a foot away from him. Those crimson eyes were all the soldier's tear-filled ones could see; they were the only things in the woods. Darkness enveloped the entire universe except for those eyes. Fighting through the space where his mind was previously, he could almost hear his thoughts, his silent screams, his paralyzed muscles screaming at him to move. They were begging him to do something, calling him by his name. What was his name? He wondered for just a second but abandoned the thought. He didn't mind it. Those devilish eyes could feel the fear escaping his eyes and could see his soul submit before the bite even came. And then it did.

"Atta girl. Good gods, what a chase." The leather-clad soldier finally found his serpent after hearing the sound of bones crushing as he got closer. He left his beast to enjoy its meal below as he climbed up the trees and looked above the canopies to get a perspective on the battle. At the top, he saw brush as far as the eyes could see. He saw bolts of electricity connect with victims on the ground below as the earth crackled with thunderous might. He heard branches break and sharpened leaves fly from the creatures that fought on the front lines. He looked above. In the air, fire spit from dragon mouths as they flew low over the trees. Even higher, aviaries clashed in the skies, causing trainer and beast to tumble to their deaths miles below. Beyond this wilderness, the island was surrounded by ocean where there'd be monsters of the deep fighting for naval superiority.

He heard the groans of the branches as his _seviper_ stuck its head out of the leaves, awaiting its master's next command. Its forked tongue flirted with the tastes the air held, stopping only to pop it back into its mouth rhythmically, like it counted the seconds until it was told what to do next. The soldier reached out and scratched the creature between its eyes and moved over to it. He put his arms around its neck, laid his stomach along its long, scaly body and whistled in a singular manner. It listened, slithered down the tree and made its way to their next rendezvous point.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Coda woke and immediately sat up in bed. The light of the day had barely begun to break into the dusty windows of his room, but he felt like he'd been up for hours already. He could hardly contain his excitement for today was a glorious day. Today was the Trainers League Championships and they were being held in downtown Goldenrod. And, thankfully, he wouldn't have to travel far as he studied at Goldenrod's university, no more than ten blocks from the stadium. He wanted to run to that stadium right now. He had enough energy to do it.

The townspeople hosted a myriad of different events at the stadium, from local monster fights, to beauty pageants, to local sport. The city had been abuzz for months before this Championships week even began, and, along with it, men had been doing renovations on the stadium – and the city altogether – to impress the incoming tourists from all over the world. Newcomer and veteran fans from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh would be gathering to cheer for their country's trainer in the championship to see which nation would bring home the Crown this year. It was only held once every four years. It was monster fighting. And it was the most exhilarating thing the world of Pokkén had ever experienced.

The world revolved around Pokkén's monsters, pokémon for short. Pokkén's entire calendar was based off man's belief that _Arceus_ , the Almighty Being, had created man and monster together 5,162 years ago. As they had been created together, so should be indefinitely tied together. Man needed pokémon for food, for farming, and for war. They used pokémon for sport, for transportation, and regarded some as saviors. These pokémon had the most amazing abilities; some could spit fire, some could dive deep below the world's waters, some could grow vines from their bodies and control them. Some could dig deep within the earth's walls, some could alter the sensorium and disappear, some could fly high above the clouds. Researchers were always discovering new monsters or finding new behaviors of existing ones. It was a booming and enthralling time for pokémon trainers, researchers, and the common man.

Not everyone worked with these Arceusean monsters. The everyday person might only see a _sentret_ in the trees on their way to work at the marketplace. They may come home to pet their _poochyena_ after returning from school or fish for _magikarp_ after a long day at the yard. And that's what made the Trainers League so exciting for the world at large. It was made for the extraordinary person that worked tirelessly to submit these monsters to their will. The very best trainers of the land could prove their mettle by unleashing their pokémon's prowess in front of thousands of spectators. To let their beasts rage at one another until only one was left still standing in the colosseum. Not just anyone could become a trainer. It took time to raise a monster. It took time to train it. It took time to teach it to fight. It took money and sponsors to travel the world to fight other elite battlers. It took the most incredible of men.

And then there was Coda, a university pupil caught up in the fantasy of it all.

Coda had dreamt about partaking in the grand adventure, as every young man does. In his dreams, he had an endless amount of gold to obtain powerful monsters from exotic lands. He could hire a platoon of men to help him capture an _entei_ cub from the volcanic regions of the Johto plains. He could hire a diving team to look for _lugia_ hatchlings swimming around the Brallian reefs. He could hire a climbing team to search for _larvitar_ pups on the peaks of the Johtoan mountain ranges. In his dreams, he traveled the globe, defeating gym leaders in every city and besting the Elite Four of each nation. He could become the most powerful man in Pokkén.

Coda snapped to after realizing he'd been brushing his teeth for ten minutes at this point. He had to meet his father at the local tavern before they went on to the day's events. Coda would hate to be late – his father had traveled far this early morning from their hometown of Ecruteak City, ten miles north of Goldenrod. He didn't want to keep him waiting. He meandered around his stuffy dormitory room, clumsily getting dressed while his cousin and roommate, Maven, continued snoring. _I'll have to tell him all about these fights when I get back_ , Coda thought. With that, he slipped on his coat, the last thing he'd be needing, and gently opened the door and made his way outside.

Goldenrod was the largest city in Johto. In fact, it was the largest city in the Kanto-Johto allied states of the northern continent of Fiore. It took over an hour to take a carriage from one side of the city to the other, mostly due to the congestion, but the city proper reached well over three miles. It was the center of commerce and industry in these modern renaissance times, bringing in businessman and commoners alike. The University also brought many young people to its hub, as it had garnered a great reputation since its inception over a hundred years ago, rivaling the academic elder heavyweight, Violet University, in the east of the country. Proving its size meritable, on the trek over to their meeting place, Coda saw over twenty shops, selling anything one could want or never think of wanting, ranging from fine wines made from various regional berries and fruits, to stores that sold domesticated pokémon, to psychics that laid claim to harvesting _Mew_ 's powers, to newspaper stands that boasted gaudy headlines detailing Fiore and Pokkén's new stories, namely about the upcoming week. Some caught Coda's eyes; he looked as he passed:

 _THE GREATEST FIGHTS EVER FOUGHT!  
DARKRAIVAN __SCANDAL SETS THE WORLD ON EDGE_  
 _SINNOH PRESIDENT SILENT AMID CONTROVERSY_

Coda clearly had not been keeping up to date with modern political affairs, only the Championship affairs, as he had no clue what the two latter headlines were referencing. Ask him to name how long the Johto Championship Finals were and what two beasts fought in the last match though and he'd happily oblige. His eyes were pulled back to the road as he side-stepped people all walking in the same direction, turning swiftly down an alley as a shortcut. "So many people", he breathed. At times, the metropolis was overwhelming. _Goldenrod, City of Opulent Charm_. He rolled his eyes at the city's nickname as he stepped over a pair of drunken men sprawled on the sidewalk, their elixirs in hand.

Ecruteak was Coda's hometown. It was a small village packed in a forest of the same name. Coda missed it at times, but he was only a half-day's ride away by _ponyta_ if he needed to return. Though it sounded accessible on parchment, he found his rigorous schedule had not allowed him much traveling time, except for a scarce holiday in which he always relished the chance to return home. It was a beautiful place, Ecruteak City. Coda missed the sound of the leaves brushing the wind and the smell of the blossoms being carried in it. He missed the sun dancing between the branches at twilight and the _stantlers_ that always flocked the forest. And yes, he unabashedly missed his mother.

Ecruteak had a reputation for being a slow town. Its climate was reasonable; warm and sunny in the spring and summer, while cold and frosty in the winter, but it did not last long, allowing his father to produce a successful farm. Ecruteak was made up of a meager five thousand people, almost a hundred times smaller than Goldenrod. He recalled his life preceding his studies at university, when he helped his father in the fields all day, tending to his creatures. They had pokémon aplenty at the farm: _miltank_ , _tauros_ , _grumpig_ , _tepigs_ , _mareep_ , _torchicks_ , _ponyta_ – if it was able to be eaten, produce eggs, wool or milk, Heston Fellroot's farms had it. When homesickness struck, Coda found himself imagining walking along the hilly, green pastures. He could feel the Goldenrod cobblestone roads beneath his feet morph into the foothills of soft, damp earth. The industrialized coal-filled air transformed to emulate the smell of the _combee_ 's hive and the _oddish_ colony's spores. He looked up to see the skyscrapers turn to clouds, canvasing a backdrop for _spearow_ and _pidgey_ flocks _._ He looked to the farmhouse where the dairy _miltanks_ rested and the _tauros_ stood resolute, their heads bowed. Attached were dirty pens filled with _grumpigs_ , known for their large coiled tails that the fledgling _spoinks_ used to augment movement until their legs grew fully. _Tepigs_ ran around with much more energy than their larger counterparts eating gods-know-what from the troughs. Past this muddy scene, young _ponyta_ foals frolicked with each other, tossing their heads to and fro, their lightly-flamed manes waxing and waning with their playfulness. _Mareep_ eyed the young steeds as they grazed, parsed out among the terrain. And if Coda imagined it was sunset, he'd see his father's prized _mightyena_ nipping at their heels to spur them back to their pens. It was a wonderful place to go in his mind when he couldn't actually be at home. But today, home was coming to him.

The streets took him to _Lady Dewgong_ , an old military outpost repurposed to be a tavern that overlooked the waters of the harbor. It was named after the legendary pokémon of Briggs Hawthorne, a naval Guard stationed along the port during the War for the North that occurred over two hundred and fifty years ago. His _dewgongess_ was quite feared on the high waters of the Great Brallian Sea that separated the continents, as the scrolls said. Historians noted it measured twelve feet in length and could tear the head off a man with ease. They said Hawthorne would sail it into _tentacruel_ -infested waters for feasting as no typical fish pokémon could satiate its hunger.

Just pondering the size of a monster that much larger than the others of its species baffled Coda. He traveled to a different reverie than the previous, one where he was significant enough to be feared. How breathtaking would it be to train monsters that instilled a sense of mortality in men? How grand would it be to have halls, cities, ports, gyms named after you? Becoming a Guard, or a gym leader as they called it in more peaceful times, was more achievable than his previous daydream. The common man could make a name for himself this way. Coda took his ambitions a little too seriously at times, to the point at which he knew all the requirements to becoming a gym leader. He had gone over it many a time. The rules required defeating all Johto's Guards and one Elite member of the Johto Counsel over the course of two years. This would allow him to replace the weakest current Guard. Coda always frowned at this part; the thought of the Elite counsel of four determining which Guard was the weakest must be no easy matter. It did have its purposes though. During wartime, this policy kept the Kanto-Johto allied military strong and sharp, keeping men ready for battle. It was then adopted by Hoenn and Sinnoh after the peace treaties were signed, upon the initiation of the Trainers League. In today's time, it kept the sport competitive. Cities would have regular fighting days where young competitors would challenge the local gym leader. Coda had been to more than a few in his hometown and was always impressed by the quality of the fights. It just made him that much more excited at the prospect of the Championships today.

"Coda, my boy," a deep voice boomed gleefully from the corner of the brightly-lit room. The source came from a weathered, grey-haired man with wrinkles under his eyes. Whether they were from smiling or being out in the sun too long was a mystery.

"Father!" Coda ran over and embraced him.

"Well, I'll be. Making your elder wait this long, I thought I'd have to attend the fights by myself." He chuckled. "Let's get some breakfast and hurry on up. We won't want to miss the opening ceremonies." He gently elbowed his only son's shoulder, nudging him aside as he reached back to his empty wooden chair.

The tavern's interior was stony and old, featuring a cobbled floor that upheld a scattering of eclectic tables and chairs, all different sizes and varieties, as if a beggar had grabbed every piece of furniture he could find and created a puzzled home out of it. Decorating the walls were trophies of many pokémon, _stantler_ and _aerodactyl_ heads, _ursaring_ , _snorlax_ , and _ninetales_ pelts, voodoo necklaces made up of _aipom_ tails, large _seakings_ mounted on plaques, and more. Alighting everyone, hanging by wires from the ceiling, were small lightbulbs, perhaps a quarter of them already burnt out, but still quite exquisite in their nature as it was. This sector of the city was involved in the first of Goldenrod's city-wide initiative of electric power, the first city in the world of Pokkén to participate in a large-scale power generation project. It was nice to live in a city so technologically advanced. He was used to candles, lanterns and _pidgey_ -mail back home. Here, he could wire a message to his chaps across town if he wanted.

They caught up over fried _magikarp_ and steamed vegetables and washed it down with a bronze amber made from the local brewers of the city. It had been almost a year since Coda had packed his bag and made the long journey to Goldenrod down the Ciliad River. There was much conversation to be had.

His father was a stoic and serious man, but there was never a doubt that he had a gentle soul. He valued hard work and righteousness, and it translated into his work back on their Ecruteak farmstead. Coda felt a great sense of joy from the unusual garrulousness of his father this morning. He talked about the farm, about the townsfolk, who was marrying who, who they saw at local gatherings, who had passed away, local festivals that had come and gone, exotic pokémon that were occasionally brought in town by the gypsies, and so on and so forth. He continued while Coda happily listened and eagerly ate. Heston finally took a breath and a swig of his drink.

"Your mother misses you so very much. She prays to Arceus every night that you're learning lots and staying safe. You're staying safe, aye?" His father raised a weary brow.

"Of course, of course. The University is a safe part of town, she knows. Tell her she's not to worry." He had a few late nights among the pubs around the city but of course, he wasn't to tell his father that. Back in his parents' time, schooling past childhood was a privilege, and today, it had been taken for granted among his generation. For his father, it was back to the farm after the Johtoan-mandated minimum years of schooling. Not that he minded; he complained frequently of the useless studies that some devoted themselves to. _Why do I need to know what type of rock a_ sableye _eats? What's the point in cutting open these_ abra _brains? Who would want to live among_ slakoths _in the Hoenn jungles? People wasting their gold and time._ Not that Coda cared. In a lot of ways, he agreed with his father. He had always thought he'd just work his father's farm and take over his estate someday, but his parents had encouraged him to study at the University in Goldenrod. He hadn't chosen a field of study but he knew he would not be picking among courses that were to his father's chagrin. He chuckled to himself in his jovial thoughts, two ales deep. _Or a master of Pokkén's monsters._

Coda looked out the grimy window of the small dive to see the city move by. The world of Pokkén was becoming a renaissance civilization and the peoples embraced it. Cities were establishing universities, hospitals were making advances in medicine and veterinary science, foundries were industrializing quickly, scholars were learning about beasts in new ways and the sport of monster fighting was garnering interest all throughout the world. There hadn't been war between nations in a quarter of a millennium. He saw groups of different people throwing back scarves with their nation's official Pokkén-monster proudly emblazoned upon their threads. Many of those passing was sporting his home nation's _ampharos_ , a large equine creature with a long neck and tail. It took years for it to lengthen its features from the docile _mareep_ and shed its protective wool. Donned with unique coat of short golden hair, it sported a cornified tail and horn of which researchers had made great new discoveries. In addition to its plant-based diet, _ampharos_ would look to eat earthen elements high in electrical conductivity in order to discharge bursts of static energy in the form of electric bolts from their keratinized appendages. In dry conditions, _ampharos_ were able to build to destructive potential energies. Coda only knew this bit of trivia because he was a walking encyclopedia on all things pokémon. In congruence with his far-fetched dreams, he had to be well-read if he wanted to be the very best.

He also had some personal experiences with tending to pokémon. He knew many farmers with large heads of _mareep_ would cut off and cauterize the conductive portions of the herd leaders in order to stifle the possible calamity one could cause. They had done this on Fellroot farms in his childhood. His father owned an _ampharos_ on his land about a decade ago and the pack would follow it around wherever it went. Coda remembered how it stood over ten feet in length and its shoulder was just below his father's. Heston had called it Nauticus in remembrance of their old purpose from the War for the North: signaling during battle times to warn of enemies on the horizon. These signals were seen by riders, namely of _charizard_ species, which were the Kanto nation's official monster. Kantoans would tease Johtoans about their choice of representative, as one could fly and breathe fire while the other was confined to the earth and discharged static. This was all said in joking, of course, because even though the _ampharos_ may look peaceful, but it would not take much electrical energy to clip a _charizard_ wing, causing deadly consequences. Novel science inquiries into the matter of battle physiology had proven that flying creatures were typically very susceptible to the electric capabilities of their grounded contenders, especially if they were wearing metal armor.

Coda knew that the Kanto monster was not to be meddled with, however. A fully-grown _charizard_ took years for its wings and flame-producing glands to completely mature, but once this happened, it lived up to the fear its name carried. Indigenous _charizards_ and their spawn lived on the northern Kanto mountain range and hibernated during the cold seasons in caves. It took a very dedicated explorer to snatch a _charmander_ from its hibernating mother, as not only the climb was treacherous, but the consequences of waking a sleeping dragon were much more so. _Charizards_ stood over eight feet tall and their wingspans spread over twenty feet. Their tail's sebaceous glands below the epidermis could discharge oils that were lit aflame and waxed and waned with their energy consumption. A barely lit limb meant the dragon was in hibernation, injured, submissive or about dead. On the other extreme, Coda had heard of legends of rabid _charizard_ with their entire backs ablaze wreaking havoc upon whole villages or starting forest fires. Spitting fire was accomplished through the beast's submandibular and parotid glands, which, in addition to its normal physiologic functions, could secrete flammable oils that were lit through a few, leading theories. Scientists dissecting dead _charizard_ found extra stomachs superior to the main, which they purport could have been used to store and digest methane-rich plants and soils. Other stomachs had been found containing bezoars that may have been used for their regurgitation to produce sparks. Altogether, this process could be carried out in such quick succession that Kanto's beloved beast could create fire in mere seconds and maintain it depending on its capacity and training.

Though fewer in number, the Hoennites and Sinnohans were just as loud and excited for the day's events. Closer to the Pokkén equator, the Hoenn island peoples were tanned and dark-haired in an evolutionary response to the humid, hot region. They were a fishing people that were heavily dependent on their ichthyic hunting and gathering style to maintain their economy. The typical Hoenn man was heavily-tattooed, showcasing their ventures _walrein_ and _wailord_ -hunting. It was not an easy feat to sail the Great Brallian Sea for months with the possibility of returning home empty-handed. Though Arceunism being the most popular religion of the day, many tribes of the Hoenn region worshipped _Kyogre_ , a large aquatic beast that was said to have created the waters of the world. _Wailord_ were said to have been direct progeny of the water god, and that was why only seasoned tribal members were worthy of the hunt. Coda couldn't imagine sailing the vast expanse of the seas only to find creatures that made their wooden vessels pale in comparison. It was terrifying.

Though some of these marine pokémon were daunting, some were captivating and awe-inspiring. _Milotics_ were a well-known favorite of the islanders when it came to transportation, domestication, and militarization. Coda spied a dark-skinned couple bundled in the cold, clearly not accustomed to the temperature change and seasons of the northern continent. They walked past the window wearing woolen hats and jackets adorned with the long serpentine creature that expressed a myriad of fantastical colors. The sigil boasted a coiled monster, with its head superior to the spiral. Unlike an _arbok_ or _seviper_ , however, it had rows of fins along its slick, rubbery skin that enabled it to propel itself ergonomically through the water. Generally, females were the larger of the two genders, and the males were genetically more predisposed to expressed colorful skins that made it seem like the sun bended off its surface, creating a rainbow hide to attract potential mates. _Milotics_ feasted upon many of the sea's monsters, so it wielded a large-angled mouth with two rows of jagged teeth, and further-matured ones grew a calcified horn used to impale fish or ward off unwanted visitors. For military purposes, experienced soldiers could saddle a _milotic_ and train it to breach the surface. With the beast craning its neck, a navyman would sit well over ten feet above the surface of the water. With a spear in hand, in conjunction with the muscular and reflexive neck of his beast, they were a deadly opponent to face. In military times, Hoennite men would train their lungs to hold oxygen for up to three minutes underwater under stressors, so that, if needed, they could dive under the water with whatever beast they rode and surprise their foes like a _diglet_ in the ground. Tales told from the War for the North described the convoluted battles of _gyarados_ -riding soldiers fighting with _milotic_ -mounted men, and all the airmen could see was ruby blood tinge the coarse waves.

Sinnohans looked strikingly different from their once war partners. Fair-haired and light-skinned, their homeland was due northeast of Kanto and Johto. They were used to this cold weather; significantly worse on the north end of their country. The southern end of Sinnoh leveled with Johto and ranged only fifty miles of water between the two. Since the war, it had become a trading route for the nations; the Sinnoh people had vast stores of minerals and rare crystals that kept its economy in much surplus. It was no secret that Sinnohans were never hurting for money. _Perhaps that's why so many ice-pickers had no religion_ , Coda supposed. _They worship their own jewelry_. These thoughts were just a byproduct of the long-standing prejudices nations still held. These types of thoughts were still ingrained in every child, from parents, town criers and the textbooks from which they were taught.

It was well-written in the history books of old that in Year 4,823 Since the Arc, the War for the North pitted the Kanto-Johto alliance between the Hoenn-Sinnoh alliance. It was war started by Sinnoh. In a mutiny, military leaders had overtaken the government and sieged war upon their neighbors west over that fifty-mile expanse of water called the Calor Strait. Before making their move, Hoenn and Sinnoh had agreed upon cooperation with the end goal of imperializing the continent that sat between them. Hoenn at the time was a forlorn island made up of indigenous people; outcast, unknown, but impressionable. They were ruled by a tribe known for their worship of _groudon_ , a large volcanic monster that was believed to have created fire, death, and ruled the gate to the underworld, which was held at bay from entering this realm by human sacrifice to the god at the volcano's mouth. Their practices were barbaric, and their beliefs were atrocious, allowing the Sinnoh king at the time to easily use them for his gain. The "Ice King", his evil plot set out before him, befriended the Hoenn tribes with frequent secret visits over years prior to the inception of the War. As the friendship grew, gifts became more elaborate from the King, eventually sending ships of enslaved pokémon and people to sacrifice at the jaws of the _groudon_ , which were well-received by the Hoenn tribe. The final part in his plan involved telling the chief he had received prophecy of fire engulfing Fiore to create fertile lands for the shared benefit of the believers of _groudon_ , of which he had feigned devotion throughout the courtship. The chief, being of the ruthless religion, joined the Sinnohan, being of a ruthless nihilism, and together attacked the Fiore in the Year 4,823 Since the Arc.

The war lasted 71 years, seeing two generations of men die and their widows and children picking up the pieces of society. Finally, the allied Kanto-Johto nations were able to push back the two to their respective corners of the map, though due to the mass death and destruction incurred upon the nations, no one could claim victory with pride. The Ice King's head was cleaved, his _rayquaza_ slain, and democracy reinstated by those previously overthrown. Meanwhile, the _groudon_ that settled in the Hoenn region was hunted down by brave men for the chance of a gentler future tribal society. Arceunism was introduced to the area, though inefficiently, as since then, its belief system has shifted to the water god, _kyogre_. _At least they're not throwing babies into the ocean_ , Coda thought. It took many years of rebuilding before the countries could call themselves stable again, and only when this was accomplished was the Trainers League introduced, along with severe restrictions on trade and military from the other countries on Sinnoh, also of which Hoenn was not completely exempt either. Some historians credit Fiore's staunch military hierarchy, the backbone of the current League, that at the time of the invasion allowed generations of men to stay ready for battle and win over a larger number of troops. Some credited Arceus. Some say it was that Hoenn started to realize the error of its naivety, surrendering earlier than Sinnoh. _Probably a combination_ , Coda's father would always say when the subject had been broached. _What we can agree on_ , he'd always continue, _is that nobody likes Sinnoh_. It was always met with smirks.

A man and his wife holding their child crossed the window, their words distorted and muffled as it passed through the glass from which Coda and his father were looking. Each one had adorably modeled a patch somewhere on their garb, undoubtedly sown on by the mother, flaunting their country's colossal monster each in its different evolutionary stages. The child, sitting comfortably in his mother's arms, tried to gnaw on his _turtwig_ jacket patch, a small amphibious creature guarded with a shell. This shell was unique, however. A _turtwig_ followed behaviors that allowed its shell to fuse with soils, rocks, clays, minerals, roots and other fauna depending on its terrain. This ability required two things: consumption of these raw materials, and hibernation whilst being buried below the surface of the ground. Almost immediately after hatching, a _turtwig_ 's immediate instincts tell it to eat as much as possible and as quickly as possible, as it would be hibernating after it ate a certain amount. Because of the nutrients it ate and of its natural shield's physiological components, it could then start this peculiar process. The periods of sleep would become progressively increased and increased until its back resembled its surroundings. Scientists had ways to determine when a _turtwig_ grew out of its development stage and "evolved", so to speak, into its _grotle_ adolescence, which the cheery mother donned on her expensive parka. At this stage, an average _grotle_ stood six feet at the shoulder and over ten feet in length. During its bouts of slumber, its tail could become rock-clubbed, thorned or sharp-leaved, depending on the area. From Sinnoh's tall-wooded, mountainous regions, they were more likely to be rock-clubbed and dangerous. At the late _grotle_ or early _torterra_ stages they were utilized for military purposes, since their eldest form took decades to reach, and at that point, would only be useful if their lands were being invaded. Fully-grown _Torterras_ weighed over ten tons and the average size was that of large house. The final stages of this beast's existence was mainly spent asleep underground, with only its head resting out upon the earth. It was not unheard of families losing their homes after realizing they had built their houses upon a _torterra_ shell, with only a few days of small, intermittent earthquakes giving them a forewarning. These tales always alleged it was a playful child finding two burrow-holes in the grounds around their home and putting things inside them that caused the stirrings, as they were most likely the nostrils of the monstrous _torterra_. The red-haired, bespectacled father's badge shown the creature with a mountain and patch of tall oak trees on its back, clearly conveying its immense size even though stitched on a seal that only covered a few inches of his left breast.

Coda swelled at the amount of information he knew about all these creatures, among the many others that inhabited the Pokkén world. He knew much of this information from his frequent visits to Ecruteak library where his mother worked. Throughout his school years at home, she had encouraged his independent learning on all these beasts. Many jobs involved pokémon, and there was much security in a future with anything involving them. The library had an enormous number of books on pokémon that it would overwhelm the common person, but Coda took it as a challenge. He couldn't get enough of the material. By the time he moved on to university, no book on the subject in that musty library was foreign to him. It became habitual to grab his bicycle, ride it down the town's country lanes and rest it against the front wall of the old brick building. He'd head over to his favorite desk and open up to the page he had last left on, smelling the old papers of books such as _Encyclopedia of the Pokkén Monster_ and _Field Guide to the Pokkén Species_. Inside, the contents revealed a wealth of knowledge about all the discovered species of pokémon. Organized by different criteria, the research groups described monsters by genetic trees, elemental propensities, abilities, size and stature, behaviors and field drawings. These written works were compendiums; they built upon centuries of research and illustrations. The rebirth of scholarly times almost guaranteed that the current volume was outdated, and Coda didn't realize the degree to which his Ecruteak studies were outmoded until visiting the Goldenrod University archives. It was exhilarating to get to discover new details about some of the things he had read and accepted as canonical. Yet still, nothing matched the thrill of knowing that he was about to see the most intimidating beings in existence fight to be champion.

Coda and Heston put on their jackets and walked out into the cobbled street. It was about a mile east to the stadium and every block was lined with vendors trying to peddle their wares: small wooden figurines of pokémon, programs detailing the week's events, books describing the lives of the battlers and their training schedules, various foods from all around the world, and anything else a person could want. It was Goldenrod City, and it was here to entertain travelers from all over the world. Heston stopped at a vendor and paid for two programs, tipped his hat and continued onward through the congestion.

"You're gonna want to look through this, I already know," he said drolly as he gave one to his son. Coda took it gingerly and immediately started inspecting it, feeling as though his eyes couldn't cover the pages fast enough. The program's cover was emblazoned with the four emblems of the nations enwrapped in a circular golden crown on a black background. _The Trainer's League Championship_ , it proudly boasted in large iconic lettering overlooking the logo below it. _I'm saving this forever_ , Coda relished. He opened it up to see a list of contents:

 _2… The Road to the Championships, Analysis and Review  
7… FEATURED: The Death that Tore the Titan Team Asunder (The Exclusive Beldan Jotün Story  
12… Kanto Trials Week Review  
16… Johto Trials Week Review  
20… FEATURED: From Paras Spores to Oddish Leaves: How New Innovations Are Progressing Fioren Healthcare  
24… Hoenn Trials Week Review  
28… Sinnoh Trials Week Review  
32… FEATURED: How Can Crowd Safety Be Properly Addressed for Astral Beasts? An Analysis by Professor Aldur Whitebeam  
35… Champion Spotlight and Team Previews  
43… Schedule of Events  
45… FEATURED: Pokkén in the Modern Era: How a Tense Political Atmosphere Ironically Takes Armistice during Battle  
_

It was quite a large program, but Coda would read it all by the end of the day, perhaps all by the end of the walk, as it was taking so long to make headway through the shifting crowds. He looked every direction and was not surprised to see people from every direction, surrounding him as far as he could see. He bent his head back down and focused on his new obsession. He skipped to the eighteenth page to see what this week's fights would bring. He had been keeping up with the fights in the papers and from the local gossipers. Amazing photographs had been shared of the spectacular battles that had already taken place and brought them to the Championships. He had heard the names. Everyone knew who these trainers were. They were practically legendary. Yet Coda went on to read all the information he most likely already knew, starting with the introduction:

 _The Trainers League Championship is the most exciting sporting event the world of Pokkén has ever experienced. Bringing together the four nations, it showcases the most powerful pokémon and their incredible handlers. The Championship takes place every four years and is rotated through a different nation each time. Preceding tribulations to dub the nations' Chosen_ _takes place in each respective country. After the local processes are complete, the four Chosen from each region come together for a clash that is always memorable._

The word _Chosen_ held such a gravity that raised the hairs on Coda's neck. _In my dreams, at least_ , Coda fancied. Much of the time, it was one of the four Elite that threw their hat in the ring. Sometimes, it was a gym leader that had been preparing to make their move. Rarely, and so excitingly, it was a newcomer that took the world by storm. The latter had only happened twice since the inception of the Trainer's League in the Year 4,894 Since the Arc. Coda read on about the details that he always cherished to memorize:

 _The Chosen can be any common man over the age of eighteen who has the will and bravery to represent his country. He will need strength in the face of daring adversity and the will to overcome death and danger. The road to the Chosen is required as follows:_

\- _He must prove his worth by defeating each of his country's Guardsmen or colloquially known as gym leaders today. This process must be completed within a three-year limit. If this process surpasses a range of three years, he must revisit and defeat any who protect the badge they have earned outside of the three-year span. Each man must always be ready to prove their record by safeguarding his badges earned if he intends to stay a member of the Trainer's League._

\- _He may then be entered into the Trainer's League Trials to become the Chosen._

 _Only men with the force of will to defeat the entirety of their nation's Guard can be entered to fight for their people. Based on our heavy analysis, they will be seeded to fight through a tournament in the months preceding the Championship, which at the end, the last left standing in good health will become Chosen. Among the common man, any Guard or Elite who intends to also fight may do so at their will._

 _The Trials tournament is a month-long adventure taking place in rotating locations in each country's respective grounds. It will be split into groups in its first stages. From each group a respective "winner" will move on to the bracket stage, with no second chances. Again, analysis by our committee will be done to ensure these are sorted fairly and consistently._

 _Upon the completion of the tournament, the Chosen will go on to stand and fight for his people among the three other nations in the Championships. In order to have a fair and complete showcase of each nation's strengths, each Chosen will fight through a double elimination bracket. This surely tests the resilience, determination and resolve of the most powerful trainers in the Pokkén world._

Starting today, it was the beginning of the double elimination bracket made of the four Chosen trainers, the best each nation had to offer. Coda looked through the earlier parts of the booklet to review the other nations' trials but couldn't contain his excitement to flip to page thirty-five and gorge upon all of the things he was to see this coming week. He wished he had been able to go to any of the group round stages, but as they were held all around the world and he had his studies to attend to, he settled to read in the papers of their grand fights. At least most major universities and schools gave many students a week off for this international event, so he would not have to feel guilty at all about missing scholarly ventures. The program started with Kanto, the father nation.

 _The Kanto group had boasted a deathly Trials week that now wields Sloan Waverly as the Chosen. This year marks the trainer's first appointment to an Elite Four position and this week will mark his first attempt at the national championship. With past military experience, the lieutenant battled his monsters with extreme rigidity and poise._ _Waverly's monsters have a rigidity and tenacity that certainly credits his militaristic style, which further adds to the name he has made for himself in the past year alone._

 _Waverly's team consists of any patriot of the fatherland's favorites: a_ charizard _, an_ exeggutor _, and an_ articuna _. Though people turn their heads at the fire dragon or the ice valkyrie, do NOT sleep on Hyfa, Sloan's_ exeggutoress _. These are formidable creatures, folks. Hyfa's got three heads, so you all know that it'll be having all eyes on its prey. The Lieutenant is slated to compete with the Jungle King in the first round, so be excited to see their matchup!_

 _NAME: Sloan Waverly  
TEAM: _Charizard _(Ragnarok),_ articuna _(Velafrös),_ exeggutor _(Hyfa)  
STYLE: Militaristic, precise, and unrelenting.  
WHAT TO WATCH FOR: Look for the three-headed Hyfa and the aggressive orders of her trainer. _

_Wow_ , Coda's heart started beating. _Three heads, Arceus, save us._ Coda knew about the tree-like dragon from his studies, as was typical of the pupil. _Exeggutors_ were usually found in hatchling form on the continent's southern border, where its wings resembled large palm leaves which helped them survive, for between exeggutors eating their own and all the other creatures in the surrounding area, it needed to seek camouflage under its secret guise of bark-like skin. Ranging from having one to three heads depending on its ability to grow well with its environmental constraints, these extra crowns gave it all the more ferocity. He rifled through to the page describing the Hoenn Chosen, The Jungle King, as the program called him.

 _Aloiki Naventic had scraped his way through the Hoenn bracket, defeating his older brother who had been presumed to win and represent their country. The two brothers, both gym leaders in different cities, have always held a loving rivalry that usually favored the elder, Voloki. The people of the water world were surprised but elated that the fledgling twenty-six-year-old would be taking on the Kanto Chosen in the Championships. Aloiki's care-free spirit is reflected in his training habits; he can be seen on any given day out in the deep waves of the South Brallian swimming with his hefty_ ludicolo _and his iconic_ swampert _. His massive amphibious beast is named Balaii, which translates to_ Torrent _in the native Hoenn tongue, and let me tell you all, it will not let you down. The_ swampert _is just as dangerous on land as it was in the water, kicking up typhoons and mudslides in a matter of seconds. Amazingly enough, Aloiki's ability to train his jungle primate with his amphibious monster works well, which is accomplished by wrestling the two in the humid shade. The_ slaking _stands ten feet tall with a white mane surrounding its grizzled face. Its mouth is lined with sharp teeth with two daunting fangs meant trouble if it could grab its large ambidextrous arms around another trainer's monster. If this description doesn't scare the audience, it will soon enough! All you Kantoans and Johtoans will take pleasure in knowing that_ slakings are _distant evolutionary cousins_ _to the your indigenous_ machamp _, but its native jungle region has allowed it to grow even larger than them._

 _NAME: Aloiki Naventic  
TEAM: _Ludicolo _(Cracoa),_ swampert _(Balaii),_ slaking _(Ronui Bava)  
STYLE: Flexible, forceful, and independent.  
WHAT TO WATCH FOR: Take notice how his slaking and swampert adjust from water regions of the colosseum to the land regions. They are versatile and have particular advantages in each setting. _

Coda's donned head ran straight into the back of the man in front of him as he completed neglected his surroundings. He was so caught up in rifling through the pages of the program, he realized they were stopped dead a half-mile away from the stadium. He heard others chattering.

"Oi, what's the hold up?"

"Seems like they've got extra security this year, dunno."

"Yeah? Probably those loons from Sinnoh doing something… they're always doing something, eh?"

Voices started talking over each other, murmuring and arguing had been instigated with these minced words. Coda strained to hear specific phrases.

"Bah! Sacrificing virgins to that old hag god, ain't they again. Cold up there got their heads all in a fritz."

The obvious sounds of pushing and agitation broke through amongst the crowds ahead of them, and whistles sounded off as constables shoved through to detain the aggressors.

The commotion snapped Coda back to reality. His father and him had been chatting lightly the entire way to the stadium, but Coda remembered none of it, so focused on the pages still clamped in his hands. He had been too preoccupied, but now he was reminded of the newspaper from this morning and turned to his father.

"Hey, what've you heard about all that? You read any of the posts on it?" He asked inquisitively. Aside from not wanting his father to think he wasn't interested in spending the day with him, he was also wanting more information on this development across the world, pertinent to the headlines he saw earlier in the day.

"Ah, well. Seems like trouble has been stirring up now for some time. Old sentiments from the Old Wars. There's talk of the devil monster possessing people and forming cults up in the godless lands. Ho-ho. They did, however, arrest one of the Sinnoh cabinet for plotting treason against their president. They're looking into it more now but these cult accusations are odd and unfounded. Couple weird happenstances and missing persons so they want to point fingers at something. I don't know. What I do know is this security is a little much. Guess they're probably just looking for any rabble-rousers. Looking for anybody wanting to punch a Sinnohan, but who doesn't?" He whispered the last part. He then paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Or any Darkraivans _."_

Coda had heard of the dark devil of the north from scary stories his friends and he used to hear when they were younger. It was a creepy story that originated from Sinnoh. The stories used to say that a large black devil would prey on families and eat their children at night if they were still awake. Coda was certain it was a tactic used by impatient parents to get their kids to go to bed by a certain hour, but there were always claims throughout the years of possessed people murdering others in cold blood or strange disappearances that a few conspirators always attributed to Darkrai **.** It was foolish, and his father was right, people always needed something to point their fingers at. He had no clue how this could've related to their government but it really held no concern in his mind for much longer. His thoughts on the subject faded as the wait grew longer and the progression bottlenecked further. Coda turned back to the program to find his nation's Chosen, of which he knew much more than the program wrote.

 _Greeley Billings the Second is a wunderkind. Only twenty years of age, The Squire, as he's being heralded, is a citizen of the tiny Johto town of Ecruteak. Son of the prominent Greeley Billings the First, owner of Billings Co., mining authority of the Kanto and Johto regions, The Squire has been preparing for this moment his entire life. Entered into training academies with advanced scholastics since a young age, Greeley has undergone extensive progressive studies combining the artful style of the pokémon battle alongside the biological concepts that make up the kingdom. Some older fans may frown when seeing his team isn't completely Johtoan in nature, but never fear, y'all! They will take pleasure in knowing he will be riding into town upon the mighty and tall shoulders of his_ meganium _Gaia, adorned with a sharp fossilized leaf-horn that will be his opponent's worst nightmare. It's a young_ meganium _, too, so prepare to be very surprised at its vitality. Aside from Gaia, Billings boasts a dangerous_ gengar _and an exotic_ zoroark. _Dust off your old encyclopedias to look up that last one, if it's even in there. Billings will be a sight to see as he intelligently and adeptly utilizes a wide range of monster on the battlefield. Maybe that's just what he's going for, but he's got a lot to prove since he's just burst onto the scene, being a first-year gym leader of his hometown and the youngest Chosen of the Championships._

 _NAME: Greeley Billings the Second  
TEAM: _Meganium _(_ _Almala_ _),_ gengar _(Noxus),_ zoroark _(Wytkl_ _ö_ _)  
STYLE: Intellectual, volatile, and cold.  
WHAT TO WATCH FOR: Look to see how Billings can accommodate any situation and use it to his advantage. If he blinks or breaks a sweat, I'll buy you a drink!_

Coda read the words _twenty years of age_ and _youngest Chosen of the Championships_ a few times around before closing the booklet for a bit. Only one year older than him. He wasn't particularly happy with the thought of Greeley Billings the Second representing the great, robust, hard-working nation of Johto. He remembered seeing Greeley escorted around town in his youth, always ushered to and fro by his family's servants and bodyguards. He was given everything he wanted and had countless servants on hand for whatever his needs happened to be that day while his father was away for work. Coda heard that he was schooled privately and that much of it involved monster hunting and training. Most children never got to grow up to even take on their nearest city's gym leader. It took money, time and dedication to become an official trainer which was already devoted to family, homestead and work for the common man. But the Billings estate had allowed the boy to thrive in the perfect conditions for a young pokémon genius to be born. Greeley's father was well-known throughout the country; an industrial tycoon, Greeley Billings the First had made a name for himself by innovating the mining and logging industries around Fiore. Coda did not believe many Ecruteak villagers had ever laid eyes on him as he was always flying or riding around his different sites. It was accepted that he wasn't a true Ecruteakian, and just happened to set his villa in the center of the forest, hidden away in the only plot of trees that he wouldn't cut down. They were used to keep others away. Though the negative connotation was there, his name carried weight and it was the only reason Ecruteak was of any significance to anyone. Coda wondered how long it would be until it was christened Billingsfield.

The young Greeley had currently held a gym leader position for little less than a year. The overthrow of their old guard was a shock to all in town, namely because no one had seen or heard from the Billings boy until the day he walked into town on the back of his _meganium_ to challenge for a badge. This started the process which didn't take long for him at all; he went on within two months' time to defeat the seven others and dominated an Elite council member. It was conjectured that the old Guard was wanting to retire anyway, but it was a sad moment across the small wooden town. No one Coda had read about had conquered a country's Guardsmen and Elite in that little time, so despite the hesitancy surrounding his young name, Coda was still patriotically hopeful that Greeley Billings the Second would not embarrass his nation. As a whole, Johto seemed hopeful, too. They didn't have the preconceived notions Coda did, and perhaps only saw a royal prodigy leading the charge on the Pokkén world, equipped with beasts trained with the best handlers that money could buy and an intellect to match the scientists that studied them. Coda only felt nausea from a spoiled boy who had his work done for him. His own father Heston was out at the stables each morning an hour before the break of sun and stayed out until it set. He milked _miltanks_ , slaughtered _pignites_ , gathered _torchic_ eggs, sheared _flaafy_ , brushed _rapidash_ , and grew crop on top of that. This child had his father build him an empire and gave him powerful beasts to battle so he'd have something to do. Although Greeley was older, Coda felt like he earned seniority by work ethic and diligence. He felt guilty for not feeling fully zealous about his nation's representative in these upcoming fights, but it was quite the change from the last Johto trainer. The Old Fort, they called him.

Cillian Fortree was hailed as a national treasure by his countrymen. He had brought home the national champion trophy on three separate occasions, all with the same monsters, which was a feat in and of itself. Coda still remembered The Old Fort on the head horn of his might _steelix_ Hephaestus, making his way through Goldenrod in a flashy homecoming parade. Coda remembered his seven-year-old-self pouting at the time because they were so far back in the crowd, afraid he wouldn't be able to see the great champion bringing his third title home, this time from Hoenn. How wrong he found himself to be, seeing Fortree sitting atop his massive stone serpent. The bright osteoderms on its skin shone brighter than the bejeweled cup that the old man held in his hand to the deafening sounds of excitement and cheers. Along the side, on one of Hephaestus' many spiny metallic processes, Fortree's _skarmory_ perched. A cousin to the _aerodactyl_ , it shone just a brightly as the _steelix_ it sat upon. Though its wings looked bright like steel, it was an evolutionary trick bent upon misleading its foes into being more daunting than its silvery plumage truly was. Adorned with long legs along with large wings, it could run as quickly as it could fly. Once caught up to its prey, it could gore it with its large petrified horn upon its head, or stab it a sharp beak. Upon hearing the cheers of the people, it almost seemed to respond as it spread its large red-tinged wings and gave a loud ringing screech to the winds, though more than likely frustrated its well-earned slumber had been broken, but was still received positively among the masses. The _steelix'_ s one-hundred-and-fifty-foot body created a massive train of space, and the crowd gave the mighty reptile a large berth. Coda remembered getting on top of his father's shoulders to see Fortree's huge _ursaring_ completely sprawled across the back of his companion _steelix_ , immune to the sounds and the ribbons flowing through the air. Its brown snout dilated with each long draught of air it took in, oblivious to the commotion that filled it. Coda knew _ursaring_ and their _teddiursa_ cubs lived in the Ecruteak forest, though he had never seen them. He heard they liked to sleep and keep to themselves. Coda knew not to mess with an ursine mother and especially her cubs; it meant certain death.

As Coda had recalled, Fortree's pokémonsters seemed as though they were all used to this routine. Miraculous enough then that it was each of the beasts' third title. Unfortunately, it was commonplace enough for these monsters to be disabled or critically injured in these high-level matches, even when the trainer had called forfeit or the umpire had called the battle clearly won. There were measures in place to prevent the fighting beasts from doing each other mortal harm; men at the ready with harnesses and ropes, huge nets cast, cages ready to be dropped, tranquilizer arrows, but sometimes, these only slowed them down. And that's why a lot of people didn't like the current favorite for the title. Coda finally flipped to page forty-one to read on the Sinnohan Chosen, the Northern Rock.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _Sinnoh's Elite trainer Petre Bastille won the 66_ _th_ _Trainers League Championships in Year 5,158 Since the Arc in a bloody match that lasted over three hours in length. The Northern Rock defeated the Johtoan Elite Cillian Fortree in a spectacular bracket reset meant for the ages. Some eccentric Sinnohan fans claim he intended first round defeat to drop to the losers' bracket solely to make his ultimate victory all the more painful for The Old Fort. An avid rock-climber, Petre Bastille has conquered the high peaks of Mt. Coronet, becoming one of seven record holders of such a feat, past or present. It is no mystery that he seeks these mountaintops for solace during his training with his mamoswine, empoleon, and abomasnow. All large and ruthless, designed to maim and crush, these icy pokémon will be sure to send chills down to your bones. He is ultimately the favorite for the tournament and will be facing young Billings in the first round. The true question will be whether The Northern Rock allows The Squire to climb the mountain of competition or breaks him underneath the avalanche of defeat._

 _NAME: Petre Bastille  
TEAM: _Mamoswine _(Yggdron),_ empoleon _(Ahtia),_ abomasnow _(Hrothgar)  
STYLE: Unpredictable, over-powering and chaotic.  
WHAT TO WATCH FOR: Sometimes, watching The Northern Rock himself can be as entertaining as the monsters fighting. He taunts, he screams, he's as erratic as a bucking _tauros _. Watch for grandiosity because he's here to win._

Coda closed the book and sighed. He really didn't want Petre Bastille to win. Nobody but Sinnoh wanted Petre Bastille to win. Obviously, no one wanted another country's Chosen to win, but if nothing else in the world, Kanto, Johto, and Hoenn could agree that they'd rather not have Petre Bastille win this year's Championships. The book didn't mention the inception of the hatred people shared for the Champion, as it was bad publicity for the sport altogether. He thought of what it should have read in place of lauding him: _The battle between Cilian Fortree and Petre Bastille ended with the death of Fortree's ursaring, impaled upon the tusk of Bastille's enraged mamoswine, all too slow to be called off by his arrogant master. An official inquiry was made into the matter to investigate whether proper precautionary measures were taken, as the ursaring was well-worn and defeated as the slaughter continued amid the shouts of surrender from Cillian himself. The investigation was abruptly ended with no resistance from the official regulatory board, and any attempts to restart it were promptly squashed. Curious, isn't it, dear reader?_

Coda looked around; still walking at a _slugma's_ pace. He looked to his father. Heston was drinking a pint of some unknown alcoholic beverage.

"Hey! Where'd you get that?"

"Ah, some other Johtoans passing them around. There's nothing else to do but drink and wait."

"Well, did you happen to get me one?"

"I did, but I already drank it. You were too busy reading. Sorry, boy. Anything good in there?"

Coda laughed, and flipped open to the page of Petre Bastille and showed his father the picture of him. It shown a man in his thirties with a devilish smile and shoulder-length blond hair with a thick strawberry beard. His eyes were inviting like a _victreebel's_ trap, showing a hint of fake emotionality.

"Oh, that ass. Can't wait for our Squire to send him to hell. It'll be a tough one. Ya know, I can't stand these people talking like The Northern Rock is something special." He muttered as he said his moniker. "He's a spoiled brat, that's all."

Coda agreed. "Yeah, true. But so is Greeley Billings the Second." He mimicked his father's tone when saying the aristocrat's name. He nudged him side with his elbow playfully.

Heston laughed. "Have some respect for your town and country, Coda boy! Besides, all things true, Greeley hasn't killed a man's beast out of folly. That was the lowest thing I've seen in all my years, Coda, I'll tell you what. Never will have my respect."

At the sound of this, a man turned around wearing a brown woolen cap with the well-known _torterra_ insignia.

"You'f got a problem wif da Northern Rock, bruv?"

His words appeared slurred and his eyes danced back and forth sloppily before finding Heston's. The man rested an arm on a man nearby, who looked at him once and shrugged him back off and kept moving, saying, "Go home, ya drunkard!"

"Oi, you go home! I'm doing jus' fine here, mate."

Heston took a step around the man, who was having a difficult time following the entire predicament he'd gotten himself in. His eyes lazily lagged behind his head as he attempted to track Heston as he passed, and in his drunkenness, fell backwards onto the ground. Heston looked at Coda with a humorous look, whispering "No one likes Sinnoh." They kept walking.

"You know why else I don't like him?" Heston continued without looking at his son. Coda knew this was already about something that was going to be over his head, but he still answered the unneeded prompt.

"Why's that?"

"Because he's playing into this whole 'War for the North' thing that's been causing all this tension lately, too. You see his name all throughout the papers, don't you? All he does is go around and use every little geo-political struggle as a point to bring up how Sinnoh should have complete independence from this alliance that we've had. This alliance we've had for almost a THOUSAND YEARS." He said the last words much louder than the others, out of frustration and probable slight inebriation. Coda wondered what exactly was in the bottle now. Knowing he should understand politics being a university student, inquired further, to which the tipsy Heston gave a remarkably accurate survey.

"Right. Well, the last cycle's Championships were held in Snowpointe, Sinnoh's capitol, right? There had been whispers of a rebellion in the country at that time. You probably remember that. No? That's okay, you were young. Desden Aalto, their president, was in power then, too. Something was abuzzing throughout the country. Buzzing about rebellion, rebellion starting from Darkraivans, and that taboo name hadn't been heard in half a millennia. Apparently they had been garnering more and more influence throughout the rural parts of Sinnoh before that, but now it had reached the cities. So these followers of Darkrai _– "_

Coda interrupted. "Wait, so Darkai followers are a real thing, then? I thought you had been joking this whole time. I just knew that name from nursery stories."

Heston looked surprised. "Yeah, Darkraivans are a thing. People ask if the devil is real, but if Arceus exists, then so must the devil, eh? Soldiers writing of the Old War said men would see the old devil on the front lines. They'd eventually die of exhaustion; they couldn't eat or sleep for weeks after their visions. Who knows if it's true, but they said the Ice King had gone mad from possession." He took a drink and finally finished the bottle. "If Arceus exists, then so too must the devil."

"Comforting, Father." He paused to process. "So what's happening now then with all these cultists?"

"Well, Darkraivans are known for their belief of seeking freedom through limitless power, and to get this power, they'd do all sorts of horrible things. They'd murder, rape, plunder, sacrifice. All sorts of nasty rituals. It was said they could tame strange beasts and make them do things that pokémon don't normally do. They'd do anything for power. Perhaps that how the Ice King had tamed his drake, don't you think? So at the last Championships in Sinnoh, things were tense because there were rumors of rebellion within the cabinet. Rumors of officials participating in old Darkraivan rituals, though again, these were only rumors. Like I said, there had been reports of rural cult activities, but reaching the government and the capitol... gets people on edge though, don't you see? A country with a history of starting a World War doesn't want to bring up news like this. But, President Aalto is a good man. He declared an investigation, but nothing turned up."

"That's reassuring."

"You'd think, but a few weeks ago, two senators were found at a Darkraivan séance where they had murdered and sacrificed a little girl. She had been missing for a week. Horrible. Just horrible. The senators didn't seem themselves, as you would assume. The papers said they were speaking in tongues, spitting and foaming at the mouth, and calling for the president's head. Saying the same sorta things the reports four years ago said: that the world was going to start anew and whatnot. Who knows what's truly going on. The point of the matter is that it doesn't even have to be true for it to create a stir among the nations. Government officials of another country calling for mutiny and a 'new world'? I'd say I'd want none of that either, eh?"

All that talk had brought them right to the front of the gates of the massive Goldenrod Colosseum. It stood well over three hundred feet tall, supported by massive stone columns, pokémon of the region ornately carved into each pillar in its center. It was so large, just looking up to the top gave Coda vertigo. Flags were positioned atop a gold pole on pillars along the gigantic circular structure, repeating the four national flags, their particular emblems proudly gusting in the wind. Just inside the inner wall of the ramparts were four gigantic braziers on a large turret, unlit at the moment. Dressing both sides of the open entryway were banners, the left and right respectively stating _THE SIXTY-SEVENTH TRAINERS LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIPS_ and _IN THE YEAR FIVE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO SINCE THE ARC_. The banners were a royal purple, a neutral statement for all those entering. There were men who came in from different countries to fight here. And one came out who was the champion of them all. They would be crowned and cloaked in purple to represent the royalty they joined from the previous Championships and the politics they must rise above for the maintenance of international peace. It was the highest duty and honor of the lands.

Coda and Heston finally made their way to the open gateway and subsequently through a line of guards inspecting every person entering. He crossed the threshold to the atrium, his feet hitting the cold, marble floor, polished to reflect the morning light. He looked up and was immediately overtaken by a sense of awe and wonder at the size of the colosseum inside. A rush of air filled with all sorts of local vendors greeted him, mixed with the smells of sweat and stables. People bustled everywhere, yelling over each other, some holding their children's hands, some holding cuisines, some holding country flags, some holding gigantic stuffed knit dolls of pokémon. All so busy trying to situate before the events started for the day. Overwhelmed, Coda finally noticed the four gigantic banners that hung throughout the atrium, with each nation's emblem and color on one of them, directing citizens where to go to find their sections. He nudged his father, pointing at the yellow banner with its coat of arms: the iconic _ampharos_ connecting with a thundercloud above by a bolt of lightning. They knew their permits purchased had been for the upper levels, so they followed the banner's directions and made their way up the stone staircases.

Finally, after the fifth flight of stairs, Coda caught a break and waited for his father to arrive at their penultimate destination. He leaned over the railings and took a look at the stadium below.

Magnificence in every possible meaning of the word. The stands across from his side of the stadium seemed a far off land, the travertine gallery broken into clear sections for the wealthy and the lower classes. The colosseum was already filling up, and you could easily tell which country owned what section due to the color of the majority sitting there. Across from their quarter of the colosseum, he saw a majority green; this would be the Sinnoh nation, mirroring the reptilian skin their _torterras_ wore. On their right, he saw their closest allies, the red nation of Kanto. The red was a bright red, mimicking the fire the _charizard_ breathed more so than its skin. On their left, the sea blue Hoennites were already ready for the day. It was amazing seeing people from around the world to support their Chosen.

Coda turned his attention to the stadium grounds. This was the most exciting part to the setting, he thought. The grounds below were over three-hundred feet in diameter, with the first row of seats being over thirty feet above the ground floor. _Precautions_ , Coda scoffed. Gigantic steel bars were built into the ground that encircled the entire arena another twenty feet past the stone walls elevating the first rows. Attached to the top of the steel bars was a gigantic net made up of thin and almost transparent chainmail links connected the rest of the way to the overarching spires that topped the stadium. You could really only see them if the sun glinted angularly through them. Coda had heard his father talking about them at one point: _Sinnoh metals_ _that are strong, elemental-resistant and almost invisible._ He remembered him saying that it was made from melted _metagross_ shells. _Knowing Sinnoh, probably extremely expensive._ _Well that's precautionary, alright._ What all these precautions housed, however, was the most exciting part of the stadium.

The field that the pokémon would be fighting on was made to be a battleground fit for any single one of them. If they were a flying species, they had hundreds of feet of room within the confines of the netting to do so. If they were of the water variety, they could swim in the large lake that took up a portion of the map. A new feature that was very recently installed in Goldenrod: if both pokémon were underwater, the colosseum could raise the flooring to allow viewers to see the skirmish underneath. This obviously favored only the wealthy fans who sat in the lower sections, but the water was still clear enough that Coda and his fellow upper level viewers would be able to see from the top. If the pokémon fighting were of an earthly nature, the stadium was filled with trees and hills scattered along the lush terrain. The fertile soil contained not only volcanic ash to be ingested by fire beasts to augment their blazing capabilities, but fine earth metals that would help conductivity for electric brutes. The entirety of the pokémon grounds below looked as if one condensed the complete ecosphere into an arena-sized world. Each stadium was required to include certain elements for their fighting grounds, but the way they were positioned and mixed up was up to the groundskeepers. They had done a marvelous job this year. A small, moving ford cut through the center of the arena, probably powered by motors on one end to emulate a moving stream. It drained into a lake that looked only fifty feet across in its face but most likely a hundred feet deep. Populating the areas that the river cut through was an amalgamation of large trees known throughout the world. Palm, pine, oak, ash, hornbeam, locust, kapok, cacao, all scattered in little colonies canvasing the plains and hills portions that made up the earth portion. It was a little serendipitous to see such diversity all packed into a small circle, whereas in the world at large most of these trees were spread out thousands of miles from one another. Some of them stood tall at over eighty feet, with large branches, undoubtedly designed as perches for flying pokémon. Coda started to imagine the things he'd read about in the program already down there, fighting.

"Coda! Whoo. I'm here." Heston had his hands on his knees and was breathing labored through his mouth. "I'm not as young as I used to be. Let's find our seats."

They found them, placed right behind some railings that overlooked the lower galleries, the fans nearest below them sitting against the concrete wall twenty feet underneath. They could see well into the arena from this spot. They got comfortable and started chatting about who they thought was going to impress, who was going to win, went through a mock bracket in their heads and passed the next half an hour with idle chit chat. It was in the middle of a passionate argument between Coda and his father on who would win between a _zoroark_ or an _abomasnow_ that suddenly the crowd grew exponentially louder, and, to the roars of the people, four grey-haired men walked out of the stadium entrance together, all dressed in ceremonious, flowing robes. The leaders of Pokken. It did not matter if a person was disagreeable with one of these leader's political ideals. For at this moment, their entrance meant the games were starting. The four men walked to the center of the stadium and atop a hill situating themselves there, waving at the people, each man facing his respective nation. After a time, they all turned in a clock-like fashion to greet the other nations with reverence. He first saw their president: Eldred Brightfield. The man had a sincerity about him that brought the Johto nation to adore him. From humble beginnings, President Brightfield worked as a fisherman along the Brallian Sea before entering the military. Working his way up through the rankings, he eventually retired after a twenty-year stint as a colonel of the thirty-first naval faction. He went on to seek a career in politics where he won in landslide victories. During his time, he had helped optimize trade relations with Hoenn and Sinnoh, creating a multitude of jobs and bringing in new economy to his country. He spoke six languages and was an accomplished _houndoom_ breeder. Coda and Heston clapped and stood for their leader along with all the others in their section.

Next, the red robes of the Kanto leader flowed as President Earl Trillancy waved. Though significantly older than the other leaders, Trillancy was still extremely sharp, to which he credited all to Arceus, the Almighty. Trillancy was a prior monk and missionary to the outlying world for over half his life, preaching and converting pagan tribes in the plains far to the northwest in the continent of Fiore. It was out among the deserts that he claims that Arceus bestowed a _togekiss_ hatchling upon him, letting down a large, speckled white egg from the clouds above. A _togepi_ owlet was a sign of great blessing and fortune and were seldom spotted, as researchers claimed the rare species' nesting places changed with no regards to climate or weather. The Kanto peoples, being of stronger orthodoxy than the other countries', saw the monk riding back upon the white, sunlit wings of a _togekiss_ , and subsequently devoted themselves to him as a prophet of Arceus. Trillancy humbly accepted this divine seating and eventually was appointed as a religious advisor to Kanto's president. When the old president died off, Trillancy proffered to resign, being of elder age, though so many people wrote his name down in the polls, he was then thrust back into an even greater position: the ruler of the nation of Kanto. He advocated for policies in line with Arceunism – love, charity and fortitude. He was well-loved by all, and worked closely with the other leaders to maintain a strong alliance. As Earl Trillancy waved to the peoples of the nations, his _togekiss_ Helios flew down and landed upon one of the lower branches of the oak trees near where he stood, and cheers bounced back with renewed vigor, especially from the Kantoans. Its large, moon-shaped face looked around the stadium, studying its surroundings. Strangely, even with its large, dark eyes and sharp crooked beak, there was something angelic about the pokémon. Coda appreciated it in all its mystery and beauty. _Togekii_ were among the "astral" pokémon, a new classification that scientists used to categorize monsters that had abilities and behaviors that were difficult to explain scientifically. Progressives said that there had to be natural and evolutionary reasons why some pokémon were able to disappear, shoot beams of radiant energy or levitate mid-air, while others attributed these facilities to the gods above. _Probably a combination_ , Coda heard his father say in his mind once again. He wasn't sure what exactly this Helios could do, but he probably would not find out, as it would stay perched above the sovereignty's box, collected and poised.

The third to greet the nation was Desden Aalto, giving a deep bow and wave. His bright, blue eyes were gentle and genuine and his golden hair brightly shone even more than his white teeth. His sincerity did not falter despite the hecklers heard among the cheers and clapping. Among the light-hearted jabs, he heard some serious obscenities.

"Get your people in order! Sinnoh scum!"

"You have blood on your hands, Darkraivan puppet!"

"Your Chosen is a fucking worm, a coward!"

Still, the Ice President stood resolute, waving and smiling. Part and parcel for a politician, it seemed. Aalto had truly brought his country a long way in recent times, but things were never easy for a president. Coda remembered the newspaper title _PRESIDENT STAYS SILENT AMID CONTROVERSY_ and wondered why he would keep quiet on the subject.

Lastly, the Hoenn chief turned and bowed deeply to the Johto fans, reflecting the cultural practices that the tribes still kept. Tanemahuta Ne'igalomeatiga had a memorable name, in the fact that it was completely unpronounceable. Only the Hoennites could say it fluently, so the rest of the world tended to call him Tide Father, a bastardized translation that was much more accommodating for the common tongue. He stood a head-and-a-half shorter than the others down there with him but was much stockier and dark-skinned. On the left side of his face was a tattoo of a _sharpedo_ jaw appearing to wrap its mouth around his dark eye. The blue robes hid the entirety of his body, but Coda knew he had a sea of _wailord_ tattoos on his back recalling the tales of his many harpooning journeys in his younger life. Ne'igalomeatiga had the reputation for being slightly out of touch with the world; having hundreds of miles of sea separating one from any civilization could produce that status. Hoenn was an isolationalist country; they preferred to stay out of world affairs and were not nearly the cooperating body that Kanto and Johto had hoped when it came to Sinnohan affairs. They had stayed silent on many political matters and only spoke up when it was pertinent to their economy and people. Coda wondered if they had never been wrapped up in the War for the North so long ago if they'd even have been on the Pokkén maps today. He wondered if they all just wanted to be left alone.

After each of them had taken their time greeting the nations, they walked off in an orderly fashion through the tunnel, walked up the rampart and appeared in subsequent separate large suites all lined up next to each other. These boxes were made up of limestone and concrete, having a roof over each one, giving the nobility shade and privacy. Each ruler had their entourage with them, some with their monsters. He saw President Brightfield with one of his trusted _houndoom_ wolves, Monk Trillancy with his _togekiss_ , and the Hoenn chief who sat in his box while a mighty _tropius_ laid and slept atop the box, most likely exhausted from taxiing its owner across the world. The massive gryphon had a large, green horn atop its scaly head, embellished with tusks below its jaw, mounted upon a long neck and sauropod body. This _tropius_ had a mane of green, vibrant feathers around its neck, indicating it was a male. Its hooves were as large as a dinner plate and sprawled out across the roof it lay upon. And finally, covering its sizeable body were wings resembling gigantic palm leaves, green and feathered, capable of thrusting thousands of pounds of force in a single downward motion. It always amazed Coda that these creatures made to kill could lay so calm during these pokémon fights. It really commended the trainer who raised it. There were harsh penalties for those who mishandled their pokémon.

Handling pokémon was a large issue that many trainers never fully conquered, and ultimately forced them to retire early. It was not only a difficult feat to raise a monster to its full size, but another to ensure its safe passage from town to town without it killing anyone. Conspiracists squawked on the crazy topic of "poke-balls", futuristic scientific inventions that had been secretly created to compartmentalize pokémon in small orbs, giving trainers the ability to carry a team of monsters on a person's belt without burden. According to the theories, agents of secret world organizations would carry these devices to hide any trace of involvement. There were actual reports archived of these inventions, some of them at the Ecruteak library, written all by scientists who never fully received their doctorate for some reason or another. They were quite an exciting fantasy topic that authors of the modern age exploited well, though.

Trainers had to ensure their beasts were trained well enough to calm when ordered and fight when prompted. This meant they were to be capable of walking through the designated parts of town for pokémon passing, staying at trainer hostels without damage to the buildings, and residing alongside other pokémon trainers and their teams of monsters as well. Theologians had written extensive works purporting that because Arceus was the primordial and almighty pokémon being, that It alone had the righteous power of not being tamed by man. Since It created man more intelligent, he was to submit pokémon to his will. This was the theological reasoning for the pokémon's great inclination to submission, allowing it to not only safely cohabitate with its fellow man and beasts, but to attack others when told to do so. Wild pokémon, it was proposed, were not subjected to the same metaphysical mechanisms of ready compliance, causing them to be aggressive until this process could be started. How this process was started came down to the type of trainer. Myriads of methods were used in order to catch a pokémon; some involved stealing baby or youngling monsters, some scenarios suggested trapping and sedation, others required fighting them to submit. All routes to obtain a wild pokémon were difficult and dangerous.

His eyes were brought to a man dressed in purple robes who stepped atop a hill down in the arena once again. His voice boomed as he spread his arms and addressed the quietening crowd.

"Welcome to the sixty-seventh Trainer's League Championships!" Each word was emphasized dramatically. The noise once again became unsurmountable and it was well over a minute before he was able to start again.

"We are very pleased that you could all make this historic event. I am the gamemaster, Yeldon Flockshire. I, along with my staff, will be responsible for the umpiring of these splendid games. We always plan to have a safe, enjoyable experience for the audience, but as you know, things don't always go as planned. Please know where to flee in case of emergencies."

The crowd was not put off by this news, so it seemed. Some cheers were even heard, as if they relished the idea of the stadium catching fire or collapsing from too much excitement. Coda's heart beat a little bit faster.

"Without further ado, let the games begin!"

At that moment, four _pidgeot_ flew from beyond the stadium, torches in their beaks. Their magnificent plumage fluttered in the wind, mimicking the flickering of the fires they carried. They burst over the stadium and made their way to each brazier located along the corners of the stadium. As they all simultaneously passed directly over the gigantic stone basin, they dropped their torches, sending flames upwards so large the heavens could see it.


	4. Chapter 3 (WFTN)

**Chapter 3**

The frigid airs blasted him in the face with each new thrust his _charizard's_ wings took. He was unused to this type of cold, as this was well out of Kanto territory. The young but experienced rider had been sent on a number of scouting missions in the western Sinnoh isles looking for camps or bases that may help plan the Kanto-Johto alliance's next move. This was his third flight over the icy clouds of the northeast and so far, he had come back with nothing but sights of snowy crags and alpine trees. Ifrit, his winged beast, was covered in a metal breastplate and headpiece that surely did nothing to prevent the frost from affecting it. He patted the dragon twice on its right side, pointed to the ground in a little alcove high atop the mountain they were surveying, and held tightly as the beast curled its wings and made its descent.

Once safely on solid ground, the soldier constructed a quick campfire and cooked what was little left of his food, while Ifrit gobbled up dead _bunearies_ that he had hunted earlier in the week. He had been smart to stash a few away from the ravenous jaws of Ifrit, for it would've eaten them all right away and left none for them atop these crags, where life did not dwell. He sighed, imagining the _bunearies_ as victims of war and famine, consumed wholly into the belly of the beast. It had been only a few months since the inception of this war, and he had already seen so many companions die. Just last week, a fellow rider of his company had been taken out of the skies by enemy _altaria_ -riders. War was suffering, he realized, and he only wanted to make it out alive.

After their short session on the mountain, he once again mounted Ifrit and patted it twice again. With unusual strength, the _charizard_ , pushed off from all four legs with upwards push from its wings. Higher and higher they rose, accumulating dew and frost from the clouds they broke. After a couple minutes of climbing, they entered a haven above the clouds, where the winds were absent and blue skies were shrouding the world with quaint wonder. _Back to camp_ , he sighed. He whistled and pointed in Ifrit's ear, and it roared unexpectedly.

He caught his breath and his chest started pounding. _Why roar?_ He already knew the answer. _Oh Arceus, save me._ He tightened on the reins attached to the bite of his drake, trying to keep control of any impending situation. He looked around, but the tranquil cloudy chamber they had entered was still undisturbed. Yet Ifrit kept growling, creating a low rumbling ambiance that drew terror in his heart. He hushed his beast and listened. Up here in this sanctuary, all he could hear were the rhythmic rips of Ifrit's wings, pushing the air down every second. _Wait_. A buzzing noise came from directly below them, on the other side of the veil. It was growing louder and louder and louder –

A _flygon_ straddled by a man under helm and armed with a spear burst through the cover, wasting no time in attempting to do harm to the Kantoan man and his pokémon. The soldier pulled on the rein and steered Ifrit to the left, narrowly missing the tip of the lance and the right claw of the flying lizard. There was no time to think. He had to act. He pulled the lance from his back and yelled, spurring his beast into a lunge at the lizard. It moved quickly above them and deftly used its long tail to strike him across the head. The soldier saw black for a moment, and thanked Arceus for his helmet. He turned quickly as the enemy was already in motion for an attack from behind. He pushed his lance out in the air, striking the Sinnoh airman's spear head out of danger's path. Lunge and dodge, block and stab. This relay of events happened too many times to count, trying all of the Kanto team's energy to find the others before their strike and blocking the combination of tail, claw, spear, and jaw. And all through it, the charizard-rider felt numb, like he could only think one thing: gods _, please just let me live_.

It was the final time when the _flygon_ deftly side-spun by the left side of Ifrit and bit the edge of its wing that the Kantoan had been buffeted enough. He lunged futilely at the air where the bug-eyed reptile had been just a moment ago. "Fire! Fire, Ifrit!"

The monster, obeying its command, bellowed a terrifying tongue of white-hot flame growing larger and larger the longer it held its roar. It spun its head erratically, not particularly attempting to hit a target, but to keep its nemesis at bay. It closed its mouth, took a large drive of its wings and flew it and its rider up to a superior position to easily locate the _flygon_. Ifrit once again, opened its mouth, but quickly closed it as the team ducked to avoid an oncoming arrow. They were still above the two, reaching positions much quicker still and all the more silent. The _flygon_ then opened its large, wide mouth, flashing a rim of sharp, small fangs, and produced a sound that the Kanto rider could barely handle. The sound sheared through the air and whistled through his ears, drilling the very gyri of his brain. Pain, so much of it that he saw black momentarily. He let go of the reins and covered his ears, screaming himself to hope to drown out the banshee that was infiltrating his head. He looked up when the auditory affront had ended, and saw clear skies. The enemy was gone. He picked up the reins to be ready for the next attack when his _charizard_ dove suddenly, already bloodthirsty on the hunt. They burst through the cloud cover once again, the soldier squinting his eyes to avoid the dew inhibiting his field of vision, and saw the mountains below. And there, a hundred feet still further towards the mountains, was the _flygon_ , dodging between the rocky peaks. _Trying to bring us to their level_. He knew _flygon_ were more suited for tight spaces and craggy areas. He also knew that _charizards_ could fight anywhere.

 _Flygon_ were very quick naturally; possessing a helium bladder that allowed them to almost levitate without alar necessitation, they could change directions very quickly and propel themselves with their wings with extreme ease. This one was much quicker than Ifrit, but it was not able to withdraw line of sight of the Kanto team. They saw it dodge around the left side of a lonely spire standing alone among the waves of the ocean hundreds of feet below, its large arching swoop giving way to its route. He steered the reins to the right, gripped his weapon tightly and got ready to order Ifrit what to do next. As expected, the _flygon_ -rider had directed them into their path and were met with the hellish flames from the _charizard's_ mouth. The rider braced for impact as his mount was not stopping and caught himself with his footholds as the two monsters clashed together in the sky. The _charizard_ being the heftier of the two, its momentum carried them forward while the _flygon_ and his rider fell backwards, still gripped tightly to each other.

Grey, blue, white. Grey, blue, white. Images blurred as the quartet tumbled through the sky. He felt the wind slightly change temperature from frigid to freezing to cold. They were nearing the ocean with each passing second, locked in a fatal somersault. He was terrified, but instinct took over. He knew they had to attack swiftly in order to separate themselves from the others to avoid a watery grave. He plunged his spear as hard as he could into the attacking rider, angling it up underneath his breastplate. It skidded off and nicked his side, producing a howl of pain from the man. Meanwhile Ifrit set his jaws ablaze, burning the _flygon's_ reptilian face as its long neck whipped back and forth in serpentine motions, attempting to gnaw the _charizard's_ flesh. The wings of both beasts were thrashing rapidly at this point, attempting to stabilize themselves, but in the conflicting attempts, added to the cacophony of wind that further sent them careening downwards.

For a last time, as the water came drastically closer, he pulled his lance back quickly and successfully pushed the tip into the upper abdomen of the Sinnohan. He felt the spear break through skin and into internal organs, resisting and giving with each new peritoneal boundary it pierced. He saw him immediately lose grip as his hands reached to the entry wound in shock, sending him immediately downwards off the saddle of his companion. The _flygon_ sensing the vacancy the attack had left on its back, turned its head and started to let out a piercing scream once again, whether in agony or vengeance, it was hard to tell. Ifrit took the chance of the distraction to clamp its jaws shut on the slender neck of the creature and produce a ball of flame that immediately stopped the sound, leaving a gaping open wound and a stream of gushing blood. At this point, the only wings stabilizing was the Kanto monster's, and Ifrit released its claws from the _flygon_ , sending the Sinnoh man and monster to the waves below. The water greeted their death with a silent crash, and the waves erased any evidence of the aftermath. The rider and his mount flew away from the carnage, now scanning the air to see if they had alerted anyone else in the scuffle.

They returned to their former campsite, tending to the scrapes and bruises of the fight. Luckily, Ifrit had only incurred some minor slashes and only one deep gash on the tip of its left wing. He went to the saddle, unwrapped a leather pouch and took out vulnerary concoction alchemized from _bellosom_ and _jumpluff_ spore powders, made gelatinous with _pineco_ resin. He squeezed the amalgamation out of the rawhide pouch onto the thick, fibrous membrane of his _charizard's_ wing and rubbed it into the wound. His prone beast growled in dissent, but stayed still, having been subjected to this process before. He finished by wrapping cloth around the edge of the wing, tying it off after a few times around to ensure it would not fall off on their return trip home. The soldier pulled off his own helm, and patted his head, thanking Arceus that it was only sweat that shown on his hand, not blood. He was thanking Arceus a lot lately.

Arceunism had been in its enlightenment stage since the inception of the War for the North. The combination of war plaguing the country along with the black devil becoming a real presence on the battlefield were revitalizing the religiosity of the lands. People had been calling for the Almighty to come bring them deliverance from the Sinnohans and Hoennites. Arceus had been known to appear at random times throughout man's history on Pokkén, but it had been well over a millennium since the last miraculous apparition. People were praying fervently for It to deliver them from their sufferings now.

 _Darkrai_. He shuddered at the name. He had never seen It. He didn't even know if It was real, but the name held such a macabre weight. He felt like it should be avoided. This rider was but a man, but he had heard stories of the enemy and their dark god. He had heard stories of the things they had done, what they were capable of. After all, they had the devil on their side.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The gates below the opposing red and blue-colored sides each opened with a steadiness that added to the anticipation that made the next twenty seconds seem like an hour. The favorite for this match was Waverly Sloan, so, as tradition went, the young brother Aloiki Naventic would be greeting the masses first. The crowd knew this, and a preemptive greeting from the tribal peoples on the left side of the colosseum began. It crescendoed as the Jungle King finally entered, his tattooed, topless visage happily received a shower of Hoenn flower petals being thrown from his adoring fans above. Then, gasps and applause for what came next. Behind him, a colossal, feathered hadrosaur of a pokémon trotted in behind him. Its long, narrow duck-bill preceded small, black eyes that blinked with double eyelids, in accordance with its ability to sit on the edge of the waters of the Hoenn marshes, waiting for prey. Atop its head and extending partially down its back was a wide, fanning crest that mimicked a lily pad, used for drawing in the unsuspecting victim. Downy feathers surrounded its head like a mane, and continued to sparsely cover its shoulders, legs, and back, eventually accumulating properly at its feathery tail. Altogether, the _ludicolo_ weighed over a ton, stood six feet at the shoulder and, from head to tail, measured twelve feet. It was a disgustingly atrocious monster, but it only added to its ferocity. Coda wondered how a trainer ever wanted to keep a thing like this. He watched the pale yellow and green figure make its way to a spot it deemed appropriate in the arena and ended up on the shallow edges of the lake, crouching its back legs but keeping its front ones planted, assuming its typical hunting position.

Coda knew of _ludicolos_ only from his library books but had read of their ability to shoot water from their mouths, storing it in special organs in their posterior chest cavities, which allowed them storage of over fifty gallons at a time. The position Cracoa was in right now suggested it was engulfing all the water it could before the battle had begun. Despite water adding all that weight, it allegedly didn't matter to _ludicolos_. They could lunge out of the water with astonishing agility and snap down with their long, fine-toothed beak before its target could turn and run.

Now the right side of the field erupted into madness upon seeing their Chosen enter the stadium gates. Lieutenant Waverly walked out, head held high, chest slightly out, knees elevating purposefully and arms waving rhythmically with each stride he took. His military badges and adornments shone brightly, catching the reflection of the sun this morning. The crowd ate it up.

Right behind in tow was the famous Hyfa, walking on muscular hind legs, its three heads all independently scanning its new environment with vigor. At the sight of the enemy across the stadium, they froze in conjunction, poised with necks craned slanting backwards, their forked tongues tasting the gentle breeze, sleuthing for any information the air could offer. Its gigantic, greenish wings tensed and curled slightly, ready to assist its dive at the creature that was spunkily eyeing back. The _exeggutoress_ would never attack without a direct order though, because this was how the army man ran his strategy. All done by the drop of his hand. Coda wondered why the Kanto Elite had brought out his prized beast first and foremost, leaving the other two in the cages underneath the stadium. Perhaps it was for the hype, or maybe he was that confident it could run the Hoenn roster.

The two trainers met atop the hill the national leaders all did and shook hands with a steely gaze and formidable resolve. Each step up to the fated mound and back was accentuated by the beat of a chorus of leather-hide drums, smacked by a group of rowdy Hoenn fans on the blue side of the stadium, properly energizing the ensuing battle. They walked back to their opposite ends of the stadium, greeting their adoring home fans. Waverly snapped his fingers as he walked behind the _exeggutoress_ and it immediately listened, re-assuming its pouncing stance from before. The Jungle King patted the long beak of the _ludicolo_ and whispered in its ear, heading back to the far stone wall, folding his arms and staring blankly at his opponents.

As the gamemaster Yeldon Flockshire walked out of the center tunnel, Coda turned to his father, who met his gaze in kind. He nudged Coda with his elbow. "You ready?"

"Thanks for bringing me here, Father." It was met with a warm smile. Their eyes shifted from each other's to the field as Flockshire started to speak.

"Hello!" The warden's voice boomed once again throughout the stadium. It was almost magical how well it transcended the voluminous place. He shifted a set of large flags, each one of a different color. "I will now explain the rules and let us get on to the first match. We have much to see!" The crowd cheered more, but Coda wished they would quiet down so Flockshire would finish so they all could finally see some action. He wanted to see The Lieutenant win this match. The two nations not represented tended to split on who they cheered for. Most Johtoans still clung to the long-standing union that the Fiore countries held since long ago, while Sinnohans opted to cheer for whatever nation they fancied that day. It seemed like the green section stood and applauded equally for both trainers.

"Upon the umpire's observation that a pokémon or trainer is incapacitated, extremely injured or worse, the appropriate national flag designating the other team will be hoisted by the gamemaster. Before any call is made from the officials, the trainer may throw their own white flag, indicating their surrender. This process will restart for every new round in the match.

Trainer involvement is limited to calling to and monitoring the status of their pokémon and limited to that only. Any trainer attempting to involve themselves in the fight or with the other trainer immediately forfeits the match. Between rounds, the trainer and his crew may care for any injuries to their pokémon. Any attempts to do this during a match will be grounds for forfeiture."

Gamemaster Flockshire then turned and walked out of the stadium, appearing a minute later atop the balcony above the boxes where the presidents and chief stayed. Up there he stood with a large vantage of the arena, not blocked nor hindered of any sight. A large stone wall stood behind him that met with the next tier above, and a corridor leading out to the arcades stood fifty feet behind him on the gallery floor. However, he was protected by a ring of guards from any passerby or rabble-rouser by what only Coda could imagine was heavy payment, because they never took their eyes off the crowd and their surroundings. _You couldn't pay me all the crowns in the world to not watch this_ , he thought. Flockshire motioned to his umpires in the arena grounds, numbering ten in total. These men, dressed in matching purple blazers, all held a variety of instruments, used in emergency for restraining an uncontrollable pokémon. They all carried thick, twisted rope, a hammer, and a gigantic iron stake on their belts, used to tie down the beast and anchor it in the ground. On the side of their belts hung different bags of mixed powders, used to put an enraged beast into paralytic or sedative states. Finally, a quiver full of tranquilizer-tipped arrows to be fired sat on their hips, to be shot by the bow that was thrown over their shoulders outlined a more drastic plan of action. These men, scattered throughout the stadium's edge, all raised their hands in unison, as if they've practiced the gesture a thousand times before. Flockshire then raised both country flags high above his head, let them flirt in the wind for a moment and then thrust them down by his sides.

The games had begun.

The Lieutenant barked an order and repeatedly held a wringing fist in the air to his tree-like hydra, which promptly lunged towards the water-dwelling _ludicolo_ over fifty feet away. The ground shook and dust flew at the movement of the _exeggutoress_ ' steps and the beat of its wings. That distance was closed in a matter of two seconds. Amazingly, the _ludicolo_ receded into the stagnant waters, leaving only ripples in the stead of the behemoth. The _exeggutoress_ howled in frustration on the edge of the water, wanting to fight, its three heads all biting at nothing while its legs stomped the beachhead. Seconds passed.

Water erupted as the Hoenn Cracoa jumped out of the water, spitting a jet from its mouth, hitting the right head of Hyfa, in its attempt to block an opposing attack in its tackle. Hyfa took the tackle in its body while its remaining two heads bit the tough skin of the _ludicolo's_ upper body but did nothing to hinder the enormous momentum of its attacker. The blue-dressed fans screamed and jumped in encouragement as both of the pokémon fell to the ground. The next minute was made up of the pokémon tumbling around, the _exeggutoress_ writhing uncomfortably as it was built for bipedal movements, not for this. Cracoa eventually found its way on top of its opponent and took bites at Hyfa's body, anywhere it's crooked beak's teeth could find. Hyfa's long necks were able to find their way around the incoming crunches and took nips at the face of the _ludicolo_ in response. Frustrated with the annoyances, Cracoa vomited more water downward, engulfing Hyfa, choking it and enraging it further. Its massive weight squashed the hydra, allowing it no winged escape nor armed retaliation. Coda looked up for a second to the fans on either side of the battle; the blue side yelling frantically, pounding their seats and wringing the chains hanging over the arena, the red side quiet, hands on their heads, already silent and desperate as the match favorite looked grim below. Coda just grinned and went back to watching the action; this was everything he had ever wanted to see. It was so much more exciting than the hometown canine fights, exceedingly more exhilarating than the local gym battles, too.

This tussle only lasted seconds more as the _exeggutoress_ ' legs finally found a grip on the sandy beach and thrust Aloiki's pokémon off of it with unbelievable strength. Groans were heard from supports of the hadrosaur as it flipped over to its feet. Hyfa was breathing fully for the first time in a minute, completely furious, its wings thrashing about it heinously. The _ludicolo_ charged again, its beak open, letting out a ghoulish, high-pitched honk amplified by the large crest on its head. It was too far away to make contact, however; its rival had already taken flight. _Exeggutors_ at this stage were too hefty and could stay airborne for only so long. Their wings were mostly a façade to survive its infantile and juvenile stages, and not for the purpose of flying. The limits of their functionality were quick bouts of flight, usually to assist in quick movements. But Waverly's was trained to do a bit more than that, albeit still a short time. It elevated itself to twenty feet in the air, and then allowed itself to immediately drop on top of the unsuspecting _ludicolo_ – and the earth below them quaked and cracked as the mass of the fifteen foot, three-headed _exeggutoress_ fell on its prey with huge feet made for tramping.

Coda saw some front-row fans tumble and hold onto the banisters when the earthquake was made. He looked on as the sand and dust settled at the impact zone; people were anxiously waiting to cheer depending on the status of their Chosen's pokémon.

Moments later, the scene was cleared to show Hyfa standing, huffing and crouching forward in an attempt to take weight off of its trunk-sized limbs. A few feet away lay the massive _ludicolo_ , its front left leg broken, and its head lay down on the ground, honking pitiful whimpering noises every few seconds. Hyfa coiled back, and, in unison, its three heads unleashed a sinister high-pitched roar, making its supremacy known to its injured opponent. A few referees gingerly inched up the field, making sure not to perturb the recovering pokémon. Over the rising noise of the supporters, the Lieutenant barked an order and pointed to the areas in front of him, to which the tired Hyfa trudged and laid down, its three heads now taking turns keeping watch while the others rested. The refs looked to each other, looked to the supervising Flockshire and waved their white flags. Flockshire himself nodded, and immediately thrust his hand carrying the red flag of Kanto up in the air. Immediately the Kanto supporters bounced up and down, waving flags of their own, ecstatic that the first battle went in their favor. This ten-minute spectacle had the stadium ablaze, and it was only the first part of the first match.

Aloiki ran over to his pokémon as soon as the flags started waving and laid a hand on Cracoa. The beast whimpered and attempted to stand, trying to please its master, but failed quickly, collapsing into a sorry heap. He patted it, whispered as he did at the beginning and turned to the tunnel from where he entered, waving and calling his crew. At his beckon, a gigantic wooden cart, captained by one of the Hoenn crew, towed by four _tauros_ , made its way promptly to the Hoenn Chosen and his creature. The _tauros_ stood uneasily next to the _ludicolo_ with which they paled in comparison, shaking their heads and shifting their hooves while the trainer and his crewmen assisted the monster into the cart. At the crack of a whip they turned and exited through the tunnel, taking the first defeated of the tournament with them.

"Wow," Coda sighed. He turned to his father. "That was unbelievable. Seriously. Did you feel this place shake like that?"

"Made me feel like I was at sea, boy. Arceus, save me."

The match was far from over. The trainer with the winning pokémon could choose to keep them in or forfeit them for their next choice. The Kanto crew and Chosen huddled around the wooden wyvern, laying in a stasis until the next match, its heads still taking watch shifts. Coda observed the trainer rubbing vulnerary lotion onto the _ludicolo_ bite marks, even tending to the pressure wound the water jets had done to the _exeggutoress'_ right head, which Coda had noticed was sleeping more than the others. Some of the crew brought gigantic raw flanks of meat to the monster in the last few minutes before the gamemaster would call the start of the next match. After another minute, a whistle sounded, and, like clockwork, the crew quickly gathered their things and ran back through the Kanto tunnel.

At the same time the warden stepped up on the balcony, Aloiki walked out of the tunnel with his next pokémon. Balaii, the _swampert_ , walked on all fours, its feet padded and limbs muscular. Coda had read a fully-grown _swampert_ could jump over forty feet in a single hop, usually using its strong legs to batter its prey to death. On its head were two large, sharp crests, which traveled down to its mid-neck region. Another singular yet larger fin appeared on its short amphibian tail, used to augment its aquatic speed. He had yet to see this beast in action, but Coda could guess why its name was Torrent. It was quite beautiful, with its rubbery, shiny blue-tinted skin, the crests a bright orange that would inevitably change to a dark-orange or red when in danger as its blood vessels dilated. The reason was two-fold; temperature regulation and intimidation.

Once again, Flockshire flew the flags, bringing the chaotic monsters careening towards each other like a _magneton_ electrical field. Hyfa seemed reinvigorated; Balaii was manic. The close-ranged battle was a storm of claws, legs, tails and flippers. Growls and croaks came from the tempest below, the crowd in awe, trying to follow the minutiae with great concentration.

Hyfa suddenly flew back fifteen feet, sliding on its back and quickly recovering into a small squatting position, turning to face its aggressor. The _swampert_ had whipped it hard in its side with its gigantic tail, and its assault was far from over. Scooping up sand with its two large front webbed hands, it started slinging pile after pile of wet, cemented sand at the _exeggutoress_ , throwing in such quick procession it seemed like a landslide had come from the amphibious beast. Hyfa threw its large wings over its body and turned its heads, each one peeking when it could to avoid the barrage, trying to withstand it. The onslaught continued, the _swampert_ not seeming to tire, while its victim just appeared to accept the attack. Coda wondered if it was giving up, if it was too tired. It had undergone a lot of trauma in just the past half hour alone.

At the distant order of Aloiki, Balaii changed its stance, dropping the mud pies in its palms, getting on all fours. It gulped a large amount of air, appeared to gag, and started spitting short bursts of water at the dragon, much to the praises of its supporters. A momentum shift had started, the crowd could clearly see it. Coda switched his gaze to the eastern side of the stadium where the Lieutenant stood, stony and unaffected. His arms were crossed, as if he was biding his time for something. _Perhaps he's letting the_ swampert _run out of energy before he puts in his next pokémon_ , Coda conspired. Strange, all the same. He took another look at the drenched dragon. Its large green wings were now strangely positioned since the mud shots had stopped. They were spread, untucked from their usual place, showing the dark brown reptilian skin underneath, where it uncovered small areas of vibrant tufts of green feather on parts of its neck. It almost appeared as if those small areas were slightly glowing, shimmering, allowing the light to bend off the sun's rays like it would after a rainfall. Coda only had time to nudge his father's arm and lift his arm to point to the spectacle before what happened next.

Hyfa's three heads finally turned to confront the constant pelts of water, shaking with rage. They opened their mouths in tandem, almost immediately emitting polychromatic rays of energy from their mouths, as if they couldn't contain what its body had stored inside of itself. The rays were not very precise for this reason, but they did not need to be. Three beams of radiant energy tore the ground, crossing and weaving, spitting up sand and earth in their chaotic wake. They slowly converged in the _swampert's_ direction, one eventually hitting the frantic creature. Upon contact, the beam burned a brilliant white, producing smoke off Balaii's wet skin and eliciting sharp croaks of pain as it attempted to run to its sanctuary, the water, to take cover. It would not make it. The other two heads of the _exeggutoress_ trained their emissions where the first had gone, finally some control as its body stores depleted, and all three conjoined to burn the broad side of the Hoenn pokémon, collapsing it at the edge of the beach.

Two red flags were now raised in the air.

 _A solar beam…_ Coda awed. He couldn't even hear his own thoughts over the crowd's noises. Another amazing victory for the Kanto Chosen and his invincible beast. A mixture of wild chants blended together; the Kanto national anthem, rhythmic chants about the great _exeggutoress_ , others a frenzied jumble of random screaming. Coda and his father found themselves in the latter category, absolutely caught up in the jubilations. _How did that even happen?_ Coda wondered. He didn't know if he yelled it or if he thought it; there was no hearing his voice over this crowd in either mode of expression.

Another small break was announced as the Hoenn crew took to hauling off the burned and defeated Balaii, so Coda sat back down and Heston went off to find the lavatory. He needed time to digest what had just happened. The Lieutenant must have shouted out an order when the battle's first separation occurred, banking on his pokémon's ability to stomach the torrent of water, mud and sand that came while the _exeggutoress_ was preparing. A solar beam was an extraordinary feat of natural physiology. He recalled a proposed theory on solar energy from a volume of _The Fiore Journal of Nature and Earth_ from the Ecruteak library. How he could recall the details was a mystery to him; most likely due to the fact that the article was related to pokémonster science. The piece, called "A proposed mechanism of solar energy dispensation via plant parenchymal cellular processes", suggested some nature and plant-like pokémon were capable to emitting beams of solar energy absorbed from specialized hybrid plant-epithelial cells with high concentrations of chlorophyll. After specific cellular transcription factors were released after traumatic incidents, these transcription factors would go on to activate extra stores of chlorophylls in these pokémon cells' chloroplasts. In normal physiological function, chloroplasts would help store energy for long periods of time, but during extreme traumas, they allowed it to dispense biosynthetic energies via ligand-modulated intercellular pathways, passing along great numbers of chloroplasts and vacuoles by endocytosis. This allowed the pokémon to concentrate the photosynthesizing cells in the mucosal surfaces of its mouth where it could subsequently discharge spontaneously. It was an all-or-nothing physiological reaction; veteran pokémon could learn to train it, and novice trainers had to be wary from pushing their monster too hard or allowing it to fight too long.

"My goodness." Heston sat down with a huff next to his son. "Still the first match, boy." Coda glanced down to the Kanto crew, still attempting to inspect every wound their beast had inflicted during the second battle. The sand had left a few large gashes and scrapes along its body, and the water bursts imposed a number of bruises.

Up above, the leaders of the four nations were still lounging in their suites, their families and pokémon still present as well. He looked to the muscular, portly chief, now being engaged by the President Aalto. The chief shook his hand, and the president entered his box, animatedly discussing what had to be the fight. Aalto's face was jovial and child-like, smiling and laughing, as if he was trying to remedy the chief's alleged disappointment with his likeable infectivity. Chief Tanemahuta Ne'igalomeatiga sat and responded when it deemed appropriate, but his willingness to participate in the interaction could not betray that he was irritated with the fight up to this point. But, it was the job of a political leader to be polite, and he was meeting the minimum requirements. Above the amusing political spectacle, the chief's _tropius_ eyed the president warily. In the other boxes, the Kanto and Johto Presidents chatted, Trillancy obviously in a chipper mood. Atop his box, his _togekiss_ roosted, wings tucked and resting while standing, one eye opened, trained on the _tropius_ a couple boxes over.

Four men walked out of the west end of the stadium, holding chains that attached to Aloiki Naventic's last pokémon. Coda wondered if the chains were for show to intimidate the crowd and the opponent, because four men would do nothing if this beast became ornery.

Ronui Bava was the younger brother of the _slaking_ chief Maliki Bava, which was, ironically enough, trained and owned by Toruko Naventic, the older brother of Aloiki Naventic. Though Ronui was not as large as Toruko, it was a nimbler, quicker than the average _slaking_. Its slouched frame stood ten feet tall with a broad, flat nose and a huge mandibular prognathism that boasted two large fangs. Its head and neck were crowned by a mane of white hair, the abundance of which denoted the leader of a _slaking_ band. Its arms, tied at the wrists, were nearly as long as its body and ended with long, straight and relatively flat claws, primarily used for digging burrows or climbing trees. Its legs were muscular and feet were broad, carrying a hefty, hairy frame. As the men cut their ropes, not even bothering with the knots still tied around the limbs of the beast, it battered its large chest and let out an unearthly roar. It looked around it, and trod over to a nearby safari tree, reaching for the lowest branch and deftly snagging it and pulling itself up with absolute ease. It climbed to the bottom of the tree's wide crown and immediately collapsed upon the branches, the limbs and frame leaning awkwardly as it attempted to take a slumber. _Slakings_ slept up to eighteen hours a day, and when woken they would often throw fits. Hyfa, on the far side, eyed the behemoth-like primate with all three of its heads, watching the tree shake back and forth, spouting green leaves as if autumn's door had been prematurely passed.

Gamekeeper Flockshire raised the flags for the third time and the battle was off. The crowd's initial response was out of proportion to the movement on the field; Hyfa, well-worn at this time, approached the tree a couple hundred feet away with caution and sluggishness. Meanwhile, amazingly, Ronui Bava slept away in the tree, twenty feet off the ground. "You'd have thought that the officials shot him with those tranquilizer darts." Coda laughed to his father.

The noise of the fans only increased as the gap of distance decreased, and once again people were bouncing up and down, shaking the stands as Hyfa stood at the base of the tree. "Maybe they're trying to wake the damn thing up!" Heston laughed back, barely audible to Coda at this point.

Hyfa, clearly unable to fly due to the combination of the tree blocking it and its exhaustion, opted to let out a true dragon roar, three-fold. It held this hellish note for well over ten seconds, silencing the masses as they waited to see what would happen next.

The tree rustled, Coda barely able to make out the shape of the massive _slaking_ past the branches and leaves. What he did see was the _exeggutoress_ back up on its hind limbs, attempting to create some space from the creature it may have underestimated in its angry stupor. Hyfa made it all of ten feet before a gigantic white and brown shape jumped from the tree with tremendous ability, landing right on Hyfa's back. It snarled, immediately starting to pummel the neck and back of the dragon with its long, flat claws. Hyfa tossed Ronui Bava off its back with a spurt of its wings and turned to engage the _slaking_. It was already prepared, ducking its head and tackling the dragon in its broad side, sending it on its back. It jumped on top, grabbed the wings that threw it off moments before and bit down with its large two lower jaw fangs. At the same time, it grabbed the same wing with its arms, attempting to pull the wing out of its joint capsule, as if the appendage was an ordinary sapling in the jungle grounds it saw fitting for a mid-afternoon nap.

To the dismay of the Lieutenant and his fans, a horrifying crack was heard only moments later as the wing fell lame on the _exeggutoress_ ' right side, the left still pitifully trying to throw the _slaking_ off of it. The heads of Hyfa, though attached to long necks, had been unable to bite their attacker. They drove its body further and further through the grounds, ultimately deciding to flail itself on a gigantic tree trunk in an attempt to toss off Ronui Bava. Ronui made contact with the trunk, falling off the left side of the _exeggutoress_ but managing to catch onto its functional wing. Hyfa's heads immediately bit at the arm hanging on, fearful of what they knew now it was capable. It dropped, rolled over a few times and got up. Beating its chest and howling, it held its stand-off position while Hyfa roared back, the energy in its voice dwindling as it attempted to hold it longer.

Just then, Lieutenant Waverly ran though the field, throwing his white flag on the ground, still a hundred feet from his monster but well in the vision of the warden. "I submit!"

Immediately Aloiki ran up with youthful speed, calling his beast's name. The officials also crept slowly, ready to lasso the pokémon with their ropes if need be. Thankfully, the monster complied with its master's orders, got back on all fours, let the Hoenn trainer mount it and ride it back to the gate.

Meanwhile, Hyfa, seeing its opponent withdraw and Waverly approach, trudged over to him. It was quite a touching sight, seeing the hardened military man lay his hands on the beasts three heads that licked his face and hair. It almost appeared afraid of the repercussions its master would incur, conditioned to see that the white flag on the ground, thrown by its master, was not beneficial for it. Nevertheless, the trainer gently threw a large, leather collar around the three necks at their conjoined base, attached the long leash and led it back out of the stadium, met with a standing ovation from the masses.

After another ten minutes, Waverly returned with his second pokémon, his _articuna_ , Velafrös. The ice bird walked out on its black legs and talons, standing just as tall as its trainer. Its head twitched side to side, scoping the lands and trees. At the bidding of its master, it spread its huge wings, boasting its brilliant, silvery blue plumage, and flew up to a perch in one of the tallest trees in the center of the arena. _Articunos_ were beautiful, hailing from the northern Fiore mountain ranges, hence their thick white breast down feathers and ability to withstand devastatingly cold temperatures. Its beak was short and grey, strong enough to break ice during its fishing practices. Its feathers were water-resistant so it could take dives into frozen lakes when it found prey that needed reaching. They held hunting territories of up to fifty miles, so spotting one – if one was crazy enough to hike the icy Fiore mountain ranges – was a rare sight. It would not have surprised Coda to know that Sloan Waverly climbed the ranges in search of _articuno_ nests. Snatching a young female by chance, it would grow to be one of the most fearsome pokémon in the country.

Naventic's crew walked out and the Chosen smacked his _slaking_ , which spurred it into a quick four-legged gait up to the tree where Velafrös perched, occasionally emitting harmonious vocalizations, announcing its presence to the colosseum. It was a bit chilly today by Johto standards; perhaps this would play to the bird's advantage. The crowds roared as the red and blue flags flew for what could be the final time of this match, and the Hoenn fans cheered as their jungle beast climbed swiftly up the tree in a wanton disregard.

Coda and his father had discussed the match prior to the beginning, betting on the avian pokémon even though it was three times smaller than its opponent. They were proved correct, as over the next ten minutes Velafrös hounded the treed _slaking_ with a flurry of talons and ice. Though old folk lore recorded that _articunos_ caused the winter to come was laughable, it was true that they were able to spit frost and ice, using anatomical compression and expansion techniques with specialized air bladders. By means of this physiology in conjunction with its body water, it was capable of producing a frozen mist and, in many well-trained pokémon, much stronger rays of continuous ice.

The _slaking_ ended up stomaching the cold well, even though its natural habitat was approximately one-hundred degrees warmer than the iciness to which it was being subjected. It took to throwing branches at the swooping bird, always missing the creature, being of ferocious speed and agility. Velafrös continued to breath rays of ice in the arboreal primate's direction, and the crowd began to see the inevitable outcome of the match. Ronui Bava had been moving slower and slower as its metabolic rate could not maintain in the cold, and the ice shards and frost had left cuts and freeze burns all over its body. It stuck to the tree because it was the most cover it could find in this manner of attack. But, in an astonishing finish, the _articuna_ spread its wings and flapped them furiously, stirring a torrential wind while exhaling a gigantic breath of ice. It pelleted the tree with ice shards and blizzard-like winds. Coda could hear the large tree groan as it survived the pokémon-made winter. The onslaught continued for over a minute and, at the end, it looked as if the tree had been overcome by a Sinnohan avalanche. And finally, an immobile, frostbitten _slaking_ fell to the base of the tree thirty feet below, not using any of its limbs to catch itself in its frozen state.

And thus the match was concluded and the crowds cheered wildly. The Hoenn section, despite disgruntled at their loss, were even up clapping for their Chosen's attempt in the first round. In an uncharacteristically flashy show, Sloan called his pokémon back to him and hopped on its back. They took off from the ground and flew around the stadium, greeting their adoring fans. Velafrös sang its song of triumph during this parade while below, Naventic's crew carted off the frozen _slaking_ in a defeated fashion. Over in the boxes, the Tide Father and the Prophet Trillancy shook hands amicably, standing and clapping for the crowds to see and appreciate.

Coda and Heston were standing, congratulating the Kanto man as he reveled in the spoils of his easy win. Coda looked around and already saw people exiting the colosseum, even before Flockshire stepped into the grounds for the final time of the day.

"What an amazing spectacle of a match! That will conclude today's round of battling, but we will start at daybreak tomorrow. Welcome to the Trainers League Championships!" He said this last sentence in a grandiose manner, as if trying to inspire the masses that anyone could do what these trainers and their creatures just did.

Agreeing food was the next best thing, they made their way out of the place and onto the street, trying to sleuth out a place that wasn't completely packed or overran with people waiting outside its doors. They decided to keep walking further from the Goldenrod Colosseum.

It was late afternoon at this point, the sun on its way out of the sky, providing only a minimal comfort to the cold weather. Coda zipped up his jacket and pulled his own woolen cap on – shamelessly bought weeks prior with the yellow ampharotic insignia on the brown canvas. In their search for food, they walked past Coda's dormitory building, and a familiar face greeted them.

"Coda! Hey, Uncle Fellroot, sir!" Maven Fellroot, an athletic, messy-haired boy walked up to them, shaking Heston's hand before turning to Coda, greeting him with a palpable eagerness. "I thought I'd spot you two on the way back from the day. Glad I caught you, sir. It's been awhile." He looked to Heston again.

"Hello, Maven. Sorry you couldn't join us today. Would you come for dinner? Consider it payment for allowing me to stay in your room during the championships."

"Absolutely," the boy beamed. "I'm starving."

Maven was two years Coda's senior, taller, more muscular and had short, dark hair, slightly more of a deeper shade than his cousin. Though older than Coda, he was not as academically inclined. He made up for this with his fierce competitive nature that drove his will to study, albeit not meeting standards that allowed him to enter the university system until just this year. Maven's family and Coda's family were not only close friends, but family, working together on Fellroot Farms. Maven's father was Heston's brother, carrying their surname to their children. Coda had spent his entire youth with Maven, running around their farmlands, frolicking with their pokémon, fishing, climbing, hunting, and anything else that cousins would think up within the shady groves of Ecruteak. Maven excelled at anything needing coordination and athleticism, usually besting Coda in any competition they waged against each other. Despite this, Coda didn't mind; he was thankful that Maven and him had grown up together, becoming like brothers. He had no siblings of his own, so he was thankful to have an honorary one with which to spend all his time. To each other, they were the truest of blood brothers; there was no contention on this point. Upon seeing each other, they patted each other's shoulders, smiled, and nodded.

Together they walked to a restaurant on the west side of town, finding almost no wait even though he saw Trainers League attire on almost everyone in the diner. They sat down, ordered coffees, and chatted while they waited for their food. Though Maven first attempted to query about the day's events, Heston would not oblige before hearing about how his schooling was progressing. Whether he knew it was torture for the non-inclined mind of his nephew or because he wanted him to prioritize his future, Heston was as serious as he always was. Maven submitted, and quickly recounted his course of schooling thus far. He had Chosen to study economics, planning on helping the family with the business of their farming upon completion of his baccalaureate. Coda knew that he would soon enough take over his father's farm as the autumns came and went, and originally did not expect his parents supporting his will to attend Goldenrod University, but they did. They encouraged him to study in this day and age, becoming versatile in his assets while the Pokkén renaissance was in full bloom. He would come back to the farm, but "the farm may not always last", his father would say.

They then ate their food and Coda meticulously detailed the day's events for the attentive cousin that asked question after question. He hadn't been able to join them on the first day of the fights due to his calling to a university hearing; primarily for his alcohol use. Recently, Maven had made a spectacle of himself, urinating on the campus home of the Goldenrod president, drunkenly complaining of the recent hike in gold prices to study at the university. Coda, studying for an exam at that time, had not heard of the escapades until the next morning when a carrier had dropped a letter in their box, summoning his still-absent roommate to a professionalism board that took place this morning. Coda tread lightly upon asking about the sensitive subject.

"So, how was the remediation this morning?" Coda stumbled through the sentence, trying to pick the words carefully.

Maven shot a concerned look at Heston. "Oh," he started. "It was good. It wasn't a remediation for me. I was helping proctor the remediation for the other students. Yeah, history was easy enough this semester." He drank from his mug quickly. He looked at Heston while he fibbed, trying to convince his uncle of his lie. Heston seemed unconcerned.

"Sorry you had to miss out for something so trivial. At least you didn't miss our hometown boy in the fight. You'll be there tomorrow, then?"

Coda interjected. "Unless you're so smart that you have to proctor another exam tomorrow?" He snickered, as did Maven.

"Alright, shut up, just today. I'll be there tomorrow, I'll be there." He addressed them both, sarcastically boasting. "Anyway it's fine if I miss a couple matches, I'll be out on the field myself someday." This was met with chuckling; it was always a young man's fantasy, in which Maven and Coda loved to get lost. "Got a letter from Father a couple weeks ago, he said young little Zar's getting bigger and bigger. You've probably seen him out and about, Uncle."

Salazar was the _totodile_ that Maven had caught much to the scorn of his father back when he was only twelve years old. A white and grey egg, flowing castaway down the Ciliad River on a fishing trip that the Fellroot men had all partaken together. Coda remembered jumping rock to rock with Maven in a small tributary of the Ciliad River, Maven a couple rocks ahead of him, which was typical. He remembered Maven exclaiming, stooping to pick up the large egg that was stuck between the crooks and the current. They both inspected it; they had no clue from where it came or what it would hatch, if it even did. Nevertheless, they swore to tell no one and pocketed it in Maven's backpack. Little would they realize that it would hatch after ten days of being stored in a patch of hay in the corner of a room in the Fellroot's barn, revealing a small, blue-scaled reptile with a long, muscular tail and a wide, long snout. Its back and head were ridged with red spikes and it cawed, showing an infantile row of red gums with no teeth. Still, the cousins swore to tell no one, and Maven committed himself to keeping the little _totodile_ in the barn in a clay flower basin, filling partly with water and partly with soil, and feeding it regularly. Once it outgrew the pot, which took all but a week, Maven moved it to an unused bovine basin on the edge of the property. Eventually, his parents grew too wary of his activity and of the missing meat in their cool pantry and their salt lockers and found the origin of his suspicious ways. Coda remembered that day, because he received quite a number of belt lashings for keeping mum on the topic. His only consolation was knowing that Maven had received a larger number more. The damage was done, however; Maven had grown too attached and the doubly-sized _totodile_ had taken to following the young teenager around the grounds, finding itself in the farmhouse as they sat down for dinner that very evening, cawing and scratching at the chair legs, attempting to crawl into its imprinted leader's lap. It was not uncommon for men to tame the sharp-toothed leviathan, so the most likely thought the forgiving Kelosi Fellroot had was perhaps it would be used for meat if his son could not domesticate it. This hope was quenched, as it proved that his son was a surprisingly talented trainer, spending all his time with the monster, having uncharacteristic patience, and even reading books on the subject; this last part was shocking to his parents, as they had not seen him open a parchment willingly in years.

A _totodile_ sizing only six inches upon leaving the egg was now a young _feraligatr_ almost twelve feet long, standing at six feet, eye-to-eye with its trainer. Having an undyingly loyalty to the Fellroot family and farm, it had taken to laying in the shallow water edge of any number of the scattered Fellroot lakes, eating _shuckle, poliwag_ , _magikarp_ and any other water-dwelling creatures it could get its jaws on.

They retired to the small dormitory room on the old side of campus. The dormitories on this side were cheap and old, built a hundred years ago. This was what the Fellroots could afford, and their children were by no means gaudy fellows. Newer dormitories on the north side of the campus were built in the new electrical district, boasting newer methods of heating, lighting, and communication. Coda had read in the Goldenrod University catalogue about the new amenities and fell in love, but after tabbing to the next page to see the preliminary quote the college wanted from prospective tenants, they closed the book. The trio opened the old wooden door to a mess of a living space, scattered with clothes three weeks used, crumbs from late night snacking, and a couple of empty bottles of alcohol, quickly snatched up by Maven upon entering and thrust under the covers of his bed.

Coda let his father take his bed and he slept on the floor. It had been a long day and even the cold surface was welcome to him. They quickly said their good nights and finished their rituals and prayers, ready for the promise of sleep and the welcoming of a new day of fighting tomorrow. Coda closed his eyes, immediately letting his mind slip away, letting the visions of what he had seen that day mix with the dreams of what he may see the next. In his blend of nightly fantasies, he saw an anonymous soldier with a blank face shouting at beasts with no mouth, himself armored in heavy plate metal, an axe on his back and a whip on his waist. He was directing his full attention to a lone, black pokémon that marched through an army's castle defenses as if it were parting the waters of a creek. Darker than night, the shadow of its body denying any contour, it felled each pokémon it came to with a brief and sinister sweep of its long, scraggly claws. It found its way to the man, who stood resolutely up to it, not submitting to the fear and uneasiness that Coda could palpate through the dream world. It turned its body in an unearthly direction, wound up its arm, and slashed the man across his blank face. Blood sprang forth from the flesh, revealing the pale countenance of Coda himself.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The yellow woolen fabrics brushed against Coda's cold skin as he slipped on his sweater the next morning, creating a slight static he found oddly amusing given the _ampharos_ patch on the right shoulder of the garment. He shivered. He, his father, and Maven had all dozed off before thinking to light the fireplace, and they woke up regretting their decision as they noticed the frost on their breaths.

They packed their things again for the second day of the Championships and walked out the door of the hall. Heston had donned an old wool ascot cap of which he was particularly fond. An old white buttoned shirt was tucked into his brown trousers, complete with a golden cardigan with, of course, the golden _ampharos_ declaring its prowess on his left breast. An unusually fashionable choice for his father, but Coda knew that there was much pride for the Johtoans today. It was a status symbol to dress in fine wares, of which the Fellroots did not have, but Heston always dressed up for special occasions, of which today would especially classify. Meanwhile, Maven walked out into the cold dressed in the same attire he had worn the previous day; his knitted brown university sweater over a white shirt, the collar as crooked as his disheveled hair. Coda laughed, seeing old food stains on the cloth.

"You look a complete mess, cousin."

"Well, I can't look too good, eh? You'll never find yourself a lady then, Coda." He beamed, not breaking stride, committedly on the trail to break their fast.

After eating, they found themselves a short distance from the stadium, and made their way to the long queue with which they had to suffer the previous day. It appeared even longer today, perhaps due to people finding some time off from their places of employment or giving in after hearing the commotion of yesterday. Men shouted on street corners for a half-mile previous to the stadium, looking to sell off extra ticket brochures they had procured, hoping to capitalize on the tournament newcomers. Coda saw all the spectators again, dressed in the usual garb, though the Sinnohans and Johtoans did appear slightly gaudier today. Much more yellow was spotted in their wait, as Sinnohans had a much longer trip to travel than the native fans, so their numbers were considerably less. Coda grew anxious at the site of all the gold, as if he were the one the thousands of Johtoans were impatiently waiting to see win for their country. He felt just as nervous as perhaps Greeley Billings the Second did, shaking in the crowd, his teeth jittering as he stood still, observing all the people around him. Whether it was from the cold or anxiety, he was not sure.

How much pressure could one so young be under? He already felt for the young Hoennite who couldn't even get to the Kanto Chosen's last pokémon yesterday; he knew that he would have another chance at whoever lost today's match, but to build the faith of an entire nation on your back only to fail would feel catastrophic. He felt his heart beat faster. _I guess it's not only the pokémon who must train for this_.

Inside the stadium they went, and up to the same seats they had sat previously, this time Maven sitting down in the vacant chair that was to Coda's left. Today, they had allowed time to get the better of them, for Gamemaster Flockshire was already making his address for the beginning of the games.

Coda didn't even hear him, he was too busy looking at both ends of the stadium to see the Chosens enter with their first pokémon. He was still shaking slightly as he waited in deep anticipation. He heard himself yell, jumping up and down along with the thousands of natives in the colosseum as the small figure of a young man stepped inside the stadium. Greeley Billings the Second walked in and looked around the grounds, seemingly unaffected by the crowds around him. His face was clean-shaven, and his dark hair was parted and combed over. His trainer jacket gleamed brightly in the cold sunlight with the numerous badges he had earned in his short life. All those badges, but a novice compared to the others he would face.

He turned calmly and shouted down the tunnel. Coda's heart pounded as he waited. Which pokémon would be first? Bastille's arsenal was made up of giants from the icy region. Whatever pokémon he used would have to adjust quickly to the frosty attacks it would unleash.

A dark, purple silhouette appeared at the Johto Chosen's side. The _gengar_ was strange. In the full sunlight, it was still as if the it had not emerged from the shadows. The darkness would shift around its body at times, allowing the fans to see parts of its purple physique. It stood at five feet, short compared to the average professional trainer's pokémon, but extremely muscular. Its legs and arms were thick and edged with spikes dripping of a slight purple ooze; sharp nails fringed its fingers and toes, and it sharpened them against each other as it waited, hunched over in the pale sunlight. Its head was triangular, having a gigantic jaw that looked capable to opening too wide and too far to consume its prey. Coda knew _gengar_ were rare in the wild; _haunters_ were extremely territorial and competitive, fighting and usually killing each other off vying for the darkest parts of caves and mines. They were omens, usually associated with a bleak fate, probably because most people were ripped apart by these ravenous monsters if they happened to cross one. In their youngster stages, _gastlies_ used their helium bladders and wings to move around quickly and eat their cousins, _zubats_. It was quite remarkable how closely related these creatures truly were, but the _gastly_ line had advanced in extraordinary evolutionary fashion. Coda remembered in _The Astral Guidebook: For Beginners_ , it was written that the spectral creatures had evolved to secrete hallucinogenic toxins from their short, dark fur in addition to other strange abilities not fully documented. By the time they evolved into _haunter_ and _gengar_ , their glands had matured, allowing them to secrete toxic saliva, causing their enemies to experience a euphoric paralysis. As the world goes, this saliva was concentrated and purified to create Hauntox, a popular street drug, giving unruly teenagers an ecstasy as they laid temporarily paralyzed on the floor. Coda chuckled. He knew too many "Dream Eaters" among his university classmates, as they loved to call themselves. He had never partaken in such things, as he could not imagine the fun in being laid helpless on the floor for up to a day at a time, though many students enjoyed these weekend retreats from their assignments and readings. _Probably why our dormitory smells like so much piss_. There were worse drugs, relatively speaking. Concentrates made from any number of pokémon could be abused and had potentially dangerous side effects.

Noxus' wings had receded as it aged – as all _gengars'_ did – now only a loose, clear membrane that denied it the ability to fly thanks to its massive girth. It looked rabid, crouched over in a prowling position, erratically already looking for prey. Frothy saliva dripped from the corners of its mouth as its tongue hung limply like a canine's. Greeley scratched behind its ears and then assumed a statuesque pose, allowing the bat-like monster to slowly skulk around the grounds, its small, red, beady eyes looking for fauna to devour.

Commotion from the other tunnel started.

Until this point in the games, the crowd had been quite supportive of all the Chosen. Each spectator would obviously favor their country's Chosen, but there were always respectful claps for another country and their leader in the exposition and resolution phases of the battle. It was in the spirit of the games, after all, as it had been established so long ago that the Championship would be held to bring filial spirit, connecting the Pokkén world's people through sport and brotherhood. However, a sizeable number of attitudes took a hiatus from this mission statement as the Sinnohan Chosen appeared to the arena, riding upon the back of Yggdron, the _mammoswine_. It was hard to tell if the boos were louder than the cheers; it felt as though each were trying to solely outdo each other for the sake of disorder. Coda couldn't hear himself scream. He couldn't tell if he was adding to the cheering or the jeering.

Petre Bastille rode in rigidly, not reacting at the slightest to the sounds of his biggest adorers and largest detesters. His eyes stood fixed ahead, and his head only turned to his president's box. Two cardinal directions it turned, south and west, either looking ahead into nothingness or looking toward his country's leader.

Coda would have thought he would be taunting the crowd with kisses, laughing at the jeers his presence produced. This seemed atypical of his personality.

"He's scared of The Squire!" Coda heard a few crowdsmen say.

"That's the look my little boy has when he pisses his pants!"

"Judgment is here, you wretch!"

His posse followed him briefly into the stadium, recoiling as they stepped out into the stadium grounds as if the sun burnt their skin like a _caterpie_ under a magnifying glass. It appeared that they were partaking in some sort of dire exchange with their employer as he passed them. They attempted to grab his feet as he passed them, but he went unfazed, and their desperation rang clear from hundreds of yards away.

"Oh, they're even worried about him, too!"

"Forfeit now and save your pokémon!"

"Bah! Mammon and mammoth, bah!"

Yggdron was massive. At its shoulder, it stood ten feet tall, its back arching upwards before falling down to a snouted head. On either side of its nose, thick ivory tusks protruded and curved upwards to meet in the center, as if they were a _beedril's_ antennas exploring something it had found. Its snout was two feet long, ending with two large pink holes used to sniff out intruders in its icy habitat. Shaggy brown hair covered its entire body, and its cloven hooves were dark and wide. An ancestor to _donphan_ , _emboar_ , and _mankey_ , it was far larger and more formidable than any of its distant family. It took earth-shaking steps into the center of the arena, lifting its hairy head, smelling the air. Sensing the sweat of the night eater near it, it trumpeted beautifully, yet hauntingly, and widened its stance. Petre Bastille hopped off deftly and walked mechanically towards the wall nearest him. His head turned – not towards Yggdron – but towards Desden Aalto once again.

The _gengar_ had taken a sly approach, hiding in a tree branch fifty feet away from where the mammoth stood. How it had gotten up to the branch twenty feet above the ground, Coda wish he had seen. Its mouth grew wide as its panting grew louder, and it hissed in a warning to the pokémon ten times its size, clearly ready for the impending battle.

Flockshire above, noting the pokémon were going to start without his approval sooner rather than later, looked to both trainers for their approval. Billings gave a sign of approval; it was hard to tell if Petre Bastille had truly received the sign from the warden. He still stood quiet and non-reactive. Flockshire, seeing no signs of dramatic dissent, quickly flourished the beautiful yellow and green flags of the countries high above his head, yelling for the match to start.

The _mammoswine_ threw its head back and immediately started bounding towards the tree where the _gengar_ perched. It already had sleuthed out its whereabouts. That didn't hinder the _gengar's_ plan of action, however. It, too, leapt from its branch, outstretching its arms and legs, bounding upon the thick, dense back of Yggdron. It continued its stampede, and Noxus clung to its coat with its muscular claws. It was an incredible feat of athleticism from the _gengar_ , though Coda wondered what Noxus was to do now that it was hanging upon on the two-ton creature. The astral pokémon hunched its body together, using all its limbs to grip itself to Yggdron like a bug to a rotting carcass, and attempted to burrow its teeth into the back of its opponent's neck.

The _piloswine_ lineage survived so long in the cold because of its thick coat. Warmth was not the only purpose for its dense pelt. Its hairs were so thick, long, and matted that many pokémon had greatly difficult times sinking teeth into it. Natural predators of the area included _abomasnow_ , _beartic_ and, most deadly of all, _raikou_. _Mammoswine_ coats allowed them the precious seconds of defense for them to escape, fight back, or have its pack catch up to them. It was no surprise, then, that Noxus was only annoying Yggdron in its endeavor for blood. It huffed, frustrated, and bucked around in circles attempting to throw the _gengar_ off. Still, it proved difficult, as the small demon had a terrific latch onto the scruff of its back. Noxus continued digging, using its long, scraggly claws to scrape through tufts of hair, eventually striking blood. Yggdron trumpeted, and immediately laid down and attempted to roll over its pest.

Coda looked to the corner to see Greeley commanding the monster what to do next. It seemed like he had anticipated this to happen, yelling a command immediately for his bat to follow. Coda looked back to the skirmish. A purple fog had started to form on the back of the _mammoswine_ , and his vision of the _gengar_ had disappeared. It was peculiar, but what was most peculiar was that the _mammoswine_ appeared to be moving its legs as if it were running at top speed, albeit still being directly on its back. It was in a dissociative fugue, engulfed in a poisonous cloud emanating from a convulsing _gengar_ silhouette at Yggdron's head. After it stopped shaking, seeing its work was sufficient, it crawled slowly onto the soft underbelly of the beast and took a gigantic bite out of the flesh. _The consumer of dreams_ , Coda thought as he watched the bloody macabre scene take place. The Johtoans were going wild, happily surprised that the small devil had overtaken the mammoth.

Bastille stood still, not having moved or reacted since the very beginning of the match. Coda wondered how he had dismounted from the mammoth if he was being like this; perhaps muscle memory played a large part in this. _What's wrong with him? Why's he being like this?_ "Why isn't he calling him off? Father, what's going on?"

"He's in shock! He didn't expect The Squire to give him any trouble, ain't that right!" Heston and Maven were clapping and screaming along with the thousand others, caught up in the elation. Coda clapped along, yet the hairs on his neck started to rise, sensing something was wrong about this battle. _He's going to throw again, just as he did last Championship!_ His theory on Bastille's actions angered him, seeing his monster hurting at his indifference on the side of the stadium, the Sinnohan Chosen still looking at Aalto obsessively. His _mammoswine_ was bleeding out behind him, obliviously swimming through an imaginary pond at this point.

Earl Trillancy's _togekiss_ had its wings spread out, its neck poised backwards, tensely waiting. Its large yellow eyes were fixated on Petre Bastille, who had begun to raise his finger at the Sinnohan president. More people were starting to notice the situation developing at this point, a murmuring now replacing the dominant cheering reverberating around the stands. Greeley Billings the Second had begun looking to the warden who sat above the leader suites in a separate section. He looked to his crew members, back to the warden's box, and promptly walked closer to his _gengar_ , calling it by its name and telling it to heel. The warden seemed aware of the situation, allowing it to play out, as was typical of these battles, but seeing the _mammoswine_ twitching beside the still-flowing pool of blood, he signaled to his subsidiaries that were monitoring from the periphery, and at that moment they converged upon the scene.

It was always a grim scene to see a trainer disregard a dying pokémon, but this was downright disturbing. The finger uplifted at Desden Aalto had not wavered; Bastille's eyes had not even blinked. The cheering had faded, the crowd had quieted, the stadium was hushing as though expecting a speech from the mysteriously-acting man.

Along with the mumbles, a strong wind had picked up. Grey clouds had covered the sky. A handsome day had rapidly turned stormy, cold, and dark. Coda could not understand what happened next, but it would haunt him until the day he died.

Petre Bastille's voice echoed throughout the stadium, as if it were amplified by advanced technological means. However, his voice wasn't his voice, so to speak; it was much more sinister, ghastly, and snake-like. It was also in a tongue that Coda could not understand, but despite this fact, he still understood the terrifying nature of the language.

He was directing his spittle upwards in the sky, pleading with his arms enigmatically. The statue of Bastille moments ago had become a writhing beggar, talking to gods-know-what up above. He was on his knees now; his voice continued to ring chills through the air, darkening evermore from cloud cover. The billows above were swirling together, forming a black center that looked directly above the stadium. Coda heard thunder. _What is going on? A storm? Hurricane?_

And then he heard buzzing.

The buzzing grew louder, and it came from above. It came directly above; from the dark abyss the ring of clouds was creating. Coda shuddered. He turned to his father. Heston was looking upwards, too, completely oblivious to what was occurring before them. He grabbed his arm.

And then it came.

A long, black swarm descended from the center of the storm and the buzzing grew louder and louder as more of it came forth. The sounds became clearer as more of the sputum of whatever it was poured forth from the heavens. It became thousands of chatterings, hissings, whirrings and dronings as a myriad of black dots grew larger and larger with each passing second. And then Coda recognized them. _Murkrow, crobat_ , and _gligar_ flocks darkened the skies; the drones of _nincada_ , _yanmega_ , and _ariados_ plagued the airs. They just flew towards the earth as if they had no other choice, like the devil had poured forth cursed water from the cosmos above.

Hell had come to Pokkén.

And then the creature came next. It was then that Coda saw the most terrifying creature he had ever laid eyes on; more terrifying than anything he could have ever dreamt of. His legs trembled and he felt himself screaming and pointing as if no one else could see it, hoping someone would tell him quickly that he was in a nightmare.

It was a _giratina_.

An arthropod over eighty feet long. Its head came out first. Two huge mandibles protruded like sideways fangs, exteriorly covering inner mouthparts. They were all abducting and adducting constantly; it was eating all the hell-sent pokémon that announced its entrance. Next came its neck and cephalothorax: each spiny segment of its body continued to pour forth from the otherworld and it wouldn't stop. Each section brought another horror, two tendrils extending off its red underbelly, hiding in a white outer shell, hairy and autonomous. After that, gigantic, terrible legs – six of them, Coda counted in his terror – writhed in the sky as it sped towards the ground. The legs, oh how they were revolting – taller than the Fellroot's farmhouse in height. The cursed legend flapped gigantic insectoid wings, transparent, grey membranes lined with spikes all along the bottom edges. It finished with a gigantic white tail ended with four barbs.

Petre Bastille had done something –something so evil – he had summoned a _giratina_ , a pokémonster from the darkest parts of the earth, not seen in over three millennia. How the Sinnoh man was able to do something so magically depraved, Coda could only guess. But this he knew now: the devil was real, and it had unleashed its pet for folly.

It screeched. It was an unholy noise, as if it were in immense pain and it was trying desperately to rid its life with just the noise alone. The peoples of Goldenrod Colosseum were running for their lives. They panicked, screamed, and they all started running towards the exits. Coda looked; Helios the _togekiss_ dove downwards towards the sky at Bastille but missed its target as the now-laughing man suddenly vanished in a haze of black smoke.

Voices rang out in terror. People ran past him as he stood transfixed on the mighty _giratina_ and Petre Bastille, who was now standing in the center of the stadium, its _mammoswine_ now motionless in a bloody bath below him. Greeley Billings the Second was gone, along with his _gengar_ – Coda figured they must have fled immediately upon seeing what was happening.

"Coda! Coda! Follow me, boy! We must fly!" Heston grabbed his arms and shook him out of his daze. They were already moving down the stairs, but Coda didn't remember taking any steps preliminarily. He couldn't take his eyes off the spectacle below. It was hauntingly entrancing.

He looked towards the nation leaders' boxes now – the Hoenn Chief was actively escaping on the back of his _tropius_. The sauropod was beating its humongous wings against the maelstrom that beat in every direction, but its shape was getting smaller and smaller with every flap. They had fled.

The Johto president was already gone, it seemed, having been immediately escorted by his agents at the first moment's notice.

Earl Trillancy was there, holding his hands up and uttering words of exorcism to the gigantic mass of hades that was falling towards him in scary fashion. It was only seconds more before the _giratina_ reached the ground with its wings spread, colliding into the stadium grounds where he stood, leaving dust and rubble in its wake, the Kanto monk buried underneath. He was no more.

"Arceus, save us!"

"The end is now!"

"Repent! Repent! Repent!"

Screams interchanged all across the stairways and the grounds as people jumped over walls and pushed each other out of walkways. Coda could not count the number of people laying on the grounds of the stadium, being eaten alive by the plagues of the sky. Their screams, resounding, and their lives now gone.

A screech was heard down below as Helios unreservedly sprang towards his fallen master and his killer. A white light emanated from the _togekiss'_ mouth and shot towards it in a warped fashion. The _giratina_ responded in kind, discharging a black frothy mist from its mouth, which absorbed Helios' attack and completely blinded the white pokémon. Before it could find its way out, the _giratina_ was already there, its first two claws shoveling Helios right into its pincers, each appendage along its neck assisting in the transport.

One of the holiest leaders the Pokkén world had ever known was gone, along with his famed angelic beast. Gone to the _giratina_.

Lastly, Desden Aalto sat paralyzed in his chair, his chest heaving as he cried out to whomever could hear him. His guards, his wife, and his children all laid around him dead, buried underneath the black horde that were _murkrow_ , _nincada_ , and _crobats_. The man screamed with all his might, but he could not move, no matter how hard he tried.

Bastille laughed with a deep, otherworldly voice. His hand was raised up towards President Aalto, as though it was the one holding the Sinnohan President in place. In the demon tongue, Bastille called out to him and then to the _giratina_.

Coda was shaken yet again. He was standing on the first ground's gallery, back where all the flags had directed them to their seats. He was looking out the trellises that lined the portico walls.

"Coda, boy, you must come. Please, we must live today!" He could still hear the demon speak and the screams of the Sinnohan President. He could only imagine what was happening now, now as the screams escalated and were abruptly cut short. The _giratina_ had consumed him.

Coda couldn't believe any of it. _How was any of this happening? How was Bastille doing this? What was this darkness that fell on Pokkén so quickly? What of this_ giratina _?_ He was dizzy, almost catatonic.

"Coda! You must keep up! Now!"

His legs felt like iron but they responded. They exited the stadium and just ran. Thousands of people were pushing, stampeding each other in efforts to save their own lives. Screams still came from everyone around them. Blackness surrounded the skies above them, swooping down and swirling around them as the bird and bugs of prey picked the tournament-goers off one by one.

They ran a quarter-mile and found themselves in an alleyway past the open city square. Heston turned to the boys. He pulled them close, ducking, though there were no pokémon attempting to grab him here. "We must leave the city. We must go to the stables, you know of them, aye? We will take my carriage back. We will go and – Coda! Boy, look at me! Look at me. We will flee. We must stay together. Now, we must go!"

As the gang ran further away from the stadium, they saw military running towards it, yelling for people to get to safety as they passed. Some rode pokémon in the direction of danger, on the backs of _rhyhorn_ and _arcanine._ Some had pokémon obediently follow, _kadabra_ quietly in tow, _golem_ toads hopping along, _nidoking_ growling as they readied for battle. In the skies, _pidgeot_ , _fearow_ , and _skarmory_ carried aerial soldiers. They ran in direction of the port, where the stadium sat on the edge of the waters.

Heston looked to Coda and Maven. "We must be faster. War is coming here." They understood, pressed on, and picked up their speed. Coda found himself looking back every now and then, expecting to see the _giratina_ in its cloud of darkness following them, chasing them wherever they went. _How was this all real? Was this the devil_ Darkrai's _doing?_ He felt bumps when he thought of that name. He stopped next to a building to catch his breath, the bile overcoming the oxygen in his throat, and he vomited on the cobblestone pavement. He cried out. What had he just seen? He still heard screams throughout the city. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the sounds, but all he saw when he closed his eyes was the helpless president, the crushed prophet, the ravaged angel.

A hand touched his shoulder. Maven's hand. "C'mon, pal. We can cry when this is through. We must go now. We'll make sense of this just yet." Behind Maven stood Heston, his back turned, scanning the city and the streets. "Coda, son, let's go. Be strong, boy, now."

Another ten minutes they found themselves at their dormitory. The buildings had been ransacked in the pandemonium of people trying to get to safety. People were crying in doorways while nurses were scurrying around helping those injured. Girls and boys had packs on their backs, looking to leave town via the train, the river or the stables. They waited anxiously for buggies, coaches, drays, anything to take them away from the carnage that was Goldenrod. Some simply chose to walk with a bag over their shoulders, not waiting for their families or lackeys to come to them. Coda and Maven joined the rummaging crowds as they shouldered past other students, getting to their room. They collected what they needed in quiet urgency. Coda left behind notepads of written assignments for what he had intended to turn in for class the next week, now unimportant. He left his sheets on his bed when stuffing clothes into a linen sack; he'd have blankets back home where the foreseeable future was. He walked out with a full rucksack and a bag over his shoulder, ready to go. He could still hear chaos a mile from them at the harbor.

The wooden wheels of Heston's cabbie creaked as the rough ground pushed back unevenly, albeit his _ponyta_ moved deftly over the terrain. Coda and Maven sat in the back bench, quiet and tense. They hadn't spoken a word since grabbing their packs and loading it in the carriage, another mile from the dormitories where Heston's _ponyta_ and cab were still there, to the trio's immense relief. Heston had handsomely paid the keeper and they set off immediately.

Coda stared out the window, watching the city become village become forest. They had traveled for only an hour, but it seemed like it had taken weeks for the sky to turn back to a deep blue, now the darkness a small mushroom in the sky, thirty miles from them. Coda continually checked behind them in the dirty carriage window to see if they were being followed. It was not even a couple hours ago where he had seen the most improbable, terrifying sight he had ever experienced. He couldn't make sense of it and he didn't wish to talk about it. It appeared like the two others felt similarly, as they were all mute, staring blankly as their steed trudged forward. Coda felt sick. What did this mean for the world? Did Sinnoh truly wish to bring war upon it once again? What powers were at work and for what reason? He did not know what was ahead, he only wanted safety. He wanted to go home to Ecruteak, where peace was always kept well in the rolling hills of green and fields of crop. Perhaps this was an isolated magical event that would not last. Or perhaps the devil would be coming for them soon.


	7. Chapter 6 (WFTN)

**Chapter 6**

He scanned the area. At least, the area that he could see. The trees greatly limited his vision, especially as the sun was beginning to set, bringing in an early tide of shadow to the Fuschian forests to which it was well-accustomed. Kanto had received intel that a small envoy had touched down the night before last in an attempt to take out the Fuschian Guard and Gatekeepers, hoping to solidify a solid attack on the southeastern front of Fiore. Sentries judged no more than ten monsters and their riders had come over, almost immediately propelling smokescreens and other astral cloaking defense mechanisms. The assassin-like crew had disappeared into the dense woods that was characteristic of Fuschia; miles of endless shrubbery and trees had given them their guise for the time being. Fuschia was an unforgiving forest. Not many people went in unless they intended to train for an upcoming trial or if they wished to die.

His watch had just started, reposing the previous man, a _rhyhorn_ cavalry. He walked into a clearing, on the back of Zjarro, his _arcanine_. He was especially proud of the fiery beast. His family had been breeding _growlithe_ before the war had started, so he had his pick of the litter on which one to train before he was drafted. He chose from the line of Haephestus, the overly aggressive alpha _arcanine_ male that had unfortunately escaped too many times to count from its pen, killing a couple other male pride members in its outrage. After it had bred with the bitch of Zjarro, they had put it down for the safety of the rest of the group. His intuition that his pup would take after its father was spot on, as its violent tendencies shown early, but instead of letting them grow haphazardly as his old man had lazily done with Haephestus, he honed them into hypervigilance, obedience and still, of course, ferocity. Zjarro stood four feet at the shoulder, ten feet in length, long, sharp claws at the end of its muscular limbs, the back ones even more so for its pouncing ability, and a thick, white mane surrounding an orange-and-black-striped pelt. Its mouth could open to angles well past ninety degrees, baring two sabre-like teeth used to shred the necks of its enemies. _Arcanine_ were truly military grade, especially Zjarro.

He rubbed its scruff as he sat atop its massive frame. It was a good pokémon. It had brought him much pride, seeing the other soldiers cast glances as he towed it through camp. Other men brought their pets, their farm animals, donations from wealthy families and breeders, or government-sponsored beasts from their list of subsidized pokémon. One wouldn't see an _arcanine_ among those ranks very often.

They walked a mile-long perimeter on the south side of the forest, attempting to block any invasion into the town behind them, perhaps a half-mile into the forest at this time. It was quite a tiring post; Zjarro and him had strolled these forests for the past few weeks since being positioned here, even before any Sinnohan or Hoennite men had entered their domain. Each night they had walked the same line; and almost every night ended with them falling asleep sitting on a rock in a forest clearing they both clearly looked too forward to seeing halfway through their watch.

Three hours had passed when they fortunately prematurely entered the same clearing in the forest where the iconic rock lay, and his _arcanine_ laid down at it even before his command. Zjarro knew what to do. It was already dark in the forest at this point, and the only sounds were the _kricketot_ chirping and the lungs of his beast expanding. They laid there and the soldier's mind wandered and teetered over the brink of sleep.

The soldier was tired, after all. Why shouldn't he get to sleep while he can? The next sunrise would be all the more same: training until dusk, and if a free moment came to him, attempting to catch the eyes of the women that stayed in town for whatever reason they had, whether for nursing, cooking, or mending.

 _Snap._ A twig broke in the close distance. _Snap._ Another. The noise grew louder as it grew nearer. He had stirred to the sounds of branches groaning as they yielded their tiny splinters in the darkness surrounding them. His _arcanine_ had breathed flame on some brush and had nuzzled near them as their kind liked to do when sleeping. However, the light it gave could not uncover the mystery of what the noises that startled him were emanating from. A few more cracked in twine, this time only twenty yards from their clearing. Zjarro started growling. The hair on the back of its neck and center of its torso stood up, gathering heat as it pricked up.

And as suddenly as the noises started, they stopped. The cavalryman waited ten minutes, listening over the sound of his pumping heart, gripping the sword hilt at his waistline. He had only had fought in one skirmish, made up of ten or so men, and he had killed one then. He couldn't recall the actual moment he had plunged the sword through the man's chest, but he remembered stepping over the body, sheathing his sword, and seeing Zjarro feasting on the Sinnohan man's fallen pokémonster, a _hippowdon_. Felling a monster like that was no easy feat. The beast had weighed more than five times as much as Zjarro. They had not fought together that battle; he had been tossed from his back as the _hippowdon_ had torn the earth up as it and its paladin approached them. He had recovered quickly and gotten out of the way of the two-ton creature, climbing up crags and levels of dirt that had been chaotically disturbed by the insane strength of the _hippowdon_. It was from there he had met, fought, and subsequently killed the man. After looking to his beast to ensure it was okay, he had gone back to the body of the man he had stabbed. He checked if he was still alive. He didn't know why he had done it, perhaps to see if he wouldn't have ambushed him. Maybe to ensure he was dead, as no man should live on without his war beast. He had opened his eyes, prodded them. They had stayed open and stared into the expanse. Wide and white.

His breath galloped onwards into the woody night. It all came back to him in waves, and now it was flooding through him as this unknown thing edged closer in the forest. He hoped after that day he wouldn't have to kill again. And if he did, he'd walk away from the body without checking.

His thoughts stopped in the dead air as a set of eyes appeared in the distance. Not white like the dead man's, but yellow. Large, gold, triangular eyes. Twenty feet off the ground; this pair of eyes belonged to something that was perched in a tree. He sighed. _Noctowl_. They grew quite large and hunted at night using these ominous eyes. It was allegedly poor luck to stare into the eyes of one, but he laughed at this notion. He looked around for a rock to throw at the bird. He chuckled, crouched down and picked up a rock on his right, but his head immediately jolted back left to the tree. The amber eyes belonged not to the nocturnal pokémon known for hunting _rattata_.

They belonged to a _sceptile_.

It leapt with skillful force from the top of the tree, right for him. Zjarro sprang into action, his coat putting off a vague smoky haze, tackling the green reptile mid-air, pushing it back with a deafening roar. It hit the ground and immediately regained stature with its long, sharp claws, its pointed beak twitching as its eyes jolted around its surroundings. The _sceptile_ made small chirping noises as it surveyed, its head and neck dipping low intermittently, sniffing the air upon reentry of its original height. Its bright eyes beheld a thin, black pupil that dodged to and fro, eventually locking in on what it had been looking for. A man appeared to its right, a bow in hand, an arrow nocked. Without warning, the man pulled back and launched it at Zjarro and yelled. "Pounce, Sypha!"

The arrow launched and whistled over his head. He turned to see Zjarro jump to meet the green raptor mid-air once again as they tackled each other. He couldn't worry about their fight at this moment; he had to fight the Sinnoh man. He looked to him – he was already nocking another arrow. Whether it was intended for him or his canine, he had to meet him before it flew. It may not miss the second time.

He drew his sword and ran as quickly as the thick leather armor would allow him. He started running the twenty yards hoping to catch him before the arrow was flung but it was too late; he found himself somersaulting to the right as the arrow was launched only thirty feet from him. A tearing sensation coursed through his left flank as he got back up on his feet. He felt his side, blood came back on his hand. The arrow had sheared his side as he barely dodged the worst of it. The hit had given the soldier time to draw his sword as well and he, too, had already started advancing. He put his bloody hand back on the hilt and met him, steel on steel. Their swords flurried back and forth, firmly meeting each new slice, only broken by a new stance shift in the attempt for the steel to meet flesh rather than its own kind. Minutes of hard concentration passed and sweat gathered above the soldier's brow, as one break of concentration could lead to death. He hoped his beast was faring better than he was. He heard the sounds of the _arcanine_ and _sceptile_ growling and jumping on each other. It pained him to hear his Zjarro yelp when the reptile had landed a claw on its back or a bite to its shoulder. He felt pride when he heard the nasally squawking of Sypha, the _sceptile_ , when Zjarro spit fire from its mouth or sliced its tail. But all he could do was imagine the scenarios playing out as he focused on the fight in front of him. He knew he would have to finish this battle soon or else he would tire too much and concede a deathly blow. His muscles started to ache, and his reactions were slowing. He had begun to hear his pokémonster squeal more and more between each clang of metal in his own battle. He had to end this. His pokémon needed him.

Their blades met for what felt like the thousandth time in that bleak pre-dawn. Mustering what little reserves of strength he had, he pushed his opponent's blade down to the ground, but did not follow his own upwards. He knew the Sinnohan would react quickly to make up the space lost for fear of leaving an opening, so instead of jabbing inwards, he side-stepped. His enemy had played right into his hand, awkwardly spinning to keep some momentum, trying to cut him from the same side he had nicked him with his arrow before. The man missed widely due to him stepping out of the way, which left him exposed for an even longer amount of time than before. In this moment, the man felt no fear. He would not regret killing the man. This was war. The split-second decision that he would kill this man was justified by the crying out of his canine. The sounds were getting louder and louder and –

Blood splattered his face. His sword had ripped the man's neck open. The blade he held in his hand had become dull from the repeated blows laid upon it from tonight's skirmish and the previous ones. The Sinnohan instinctively screamed and reached up, attempting to cover the fountain of crimson spurting forth from the base of his neck, his hands shaking like an old syphilitic man, but it was like blocking the tumbling of a tree with a mere whistle of wind. The dying man screamed an unholy tone, but what bothered him more was the sounds of Zjarro. He turned finally as the man crumpled, seeing his beast shaking, backing up, its coat matted by blood. It was almost as if the _arcanine_ 's new coat was red and black rather than orange and black. The _sceptile_ was hurt, too – its tail torn off and writhing behind it – but it advanced closer to its injured adversary. For the first time in a long time, the Kanto cavalryman was truly scared. He yelled out. He needed Zjarro to live. Grabbing the still-screaming Sinnohan's bow and arrow off the ground next to him, he quickly aimed at the slithery _sceptile_ and launched his first arrow.

 _Miss_.

"No!"

 _Damn it._

"Hold on, Zjarro!"

 _I need you._ Whether this was said aloud or in his mind, he couldn't tell. He needed his pup to live. He needed him.

The _sceptile_ looked at him now, its gold eyes fixated on him angrily. It roared and crouched down, claws extracted, muscular legs ready to pounce, but before it could do so, Zjarro launched into action once more, so much weaker than before, but still strong enough to take it to the ground. Now Zjarro was on top of the reptilian devil, taking blows from its powerful hind legs, his belly being ripped apart from its long claws. But Zjarro kept him anchored down, knowing his master would deliver a blow. The _arcanine_ 's gigantic paws stood on its neck, its back ones spread wide on either side of its body. It continued to body the clawing like a loyal guard, waiting for his master, just as they had practiced before. Blood was raining down on the _sceptile_ and the ground, originating from the openings in Zjarro's abdomen.

He had to move now. He sprinted forward nocking his arrow, not wasting any time, pulling the bowstring tenser than he thought he could. He felt the string tense, creaking as he held it by his side, closing the last ten feet before jumping over squirming head of the _sceptile_. He saw its eyes peer deep into him one last time as he let his fingers relax and saw the arrow lodge itself right between its eyes.

Its long green neck finally stopped wiggling and its head fell limp to the side, the long feather positioned atop its crown brilliantly flashing turquoise, pink, and purple, still vaguely moving due to the wind, no longer because of its struggle. Its hind legs initially extending out, abducting into a decorticate position, and then relaxed, showing the brain of the island monster had finally succumbed.

It was over. Zjarro stumbled off the _sceptile_ 's neck and fell down to its side immediately, dividing its attention between his master and the blood profusely falling out of his belly. The Kanto man ran over and crouched in the crook of Zjarro's body, studying the wounds. Zjarro turned from his cuts and licked his face repeatedly, whining and crying each time it did so.

"Hold on, boy. Hold on." His voice was shaking. The wound was deep. He saw through the deep mucosal layers and saw the pink of intestines pushing outwards, ready to herniate through the thinly veiled membranes.

"Wait, boy, wait. I'm, I'm gonna stitch you up. Hold on, boy, stay here for me. Stay."

He ran over to the pack he had dropped at the beginning of the fight. He was so exhausted but he had to run. He had to save his _arcanine_. _Gods damn it, why is this pack so far away. Hurry, hurry._ His fingers fumbled as he undid the leather lacings and grabbed the small bag full of bandages, vulneraries, needles, and stitches. He started back over when he looked and saw his pet, his best friend, crawling towards him, whining. All his monster wanted was to be loved in the last minutes of its life. The ground was streaked with red along the trail it had crawled to be closer to him, and now, his viscera was falling out. A once great beast, king of the savannahs, now laying with its bodily contents out for the quiet eyes of the forest to see.

Dying. Leaving the world. The most devoted pokémon he knew couldn't obey the only command that he needed him to follow now.

"Don't leave me, Zjarro. Please don't leave me." He fell next to his _arcanine_ , crying. He held its huge head in his arms, and truly felt the weight of him in that moment. The weight of a head that could barely lift itself, the weight of a head that used to push his hands to scratch his ears, and playfully lift him upwards onto his back. Zjarro nuzzled his chest, squeaking weakly at this point. His chest rose and fell quickly; he strained to breathe.

He felt like his heart was leaving his body. He could barely breathe either.

"Zjarro. Zjarro!" He wanted eye contact from him, but Zjarro's eyelids were faintly hovering. "Remember when you were a pup, boy? You had so much life. Don't die on me. Please… Hey! Zjarro? Hey. Please don't leave me. I can't do this without you. Please…"

And though his pokémon seemed to hear him and try that much harder not to leave, his chest failed to expand and his eyes closed slowly, submitting all his strength. His head fell further into his master's chest, which was uncontrollably shaking as the man wailed out into the night.

He was alone and his only companion was gone from him forever. This was what war brought.

He caressed his _arcanine_ 's snout softly, continuing to cry with no control to stop. He talked to Zjarro's limp head, hoping it would miraculously come back to life, playing games with the gods in his head. He didn't know what to do. He lay down on the ground next to its neck, grabbing its mane so tightly, afraid to let go, as if he were to let go, its life would be lost all over again, and the icy shock would wash over him once more. He cried until he became so exhausted that he felt the urge to sleep and wake up from this horrible nightmare. He gently let go of his beloved beast, curled up to it, grabbed its leg as a lover would, and closed his still-streaming eyes, wanting to let go of the grief he was experiencing. He wanted to let go of everything. He wanted Zjarro back.

And that's when another branch broke just outside the forest clearing.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Coda sat on the bale of hay and watched the sun rise above the green, rolling hills of Fellroot Farms. He'd been up for hours, tending to the pokémon, quietly doing his tasks, not speaking to anyone. He hadn't said much in the two weeks he'd been home.

No word had been sent from Goldenrod to Ecruteak. It was concerning to say the least; Ecruteak was a straight shot north of the metropolis, so, if anything, they'd be one of the first to hear of news, good or bad. Every time Coda saw a _pidgeotto_ , _spearow_ , or _farfetch_ fly across the sky, he hoped he'd see parchment rolled between their talons. Continually, he was let down.

Anything could've happened since he'd been gone. The aggressors could have been quenched quickly and order was being restored once again. The fight could still be going on as he thought this over. Or the town could have burnt down in a fire, emanating a glow that perhaps he could see at night.

It was nice being home, however. Seeing his mother, father, cousins, Maven. It all felt secure. He had someone there around him whenever he felt like the dissociation of death's grip on his memory rent his mind from his body. He had been having trouble sleeping since getting home and he knew it wasn't due to the feathers in his pillow or the cotton in his sheets. He knew what it was.

Maven had been over every day, working on the farmland from morning until the evening alongside Coda, just like the old times. Afterwards, Coda would wander around their grounds until his family supped, and Maven would stay with him. He, too, had been quieter, albeit he tried harder than Coda had to pick their collective spirits up, especially in the first week. After it was clear it hadn't worked, he gave up, proffering to just walk side-by-side with his friend, grieving in the only way they found that worked. Maven hadn't come by in a few days, now that he thought about it. He let the worry glaze over as he watched the red become pink become orange on the horizon, the beams flirting behind the rounded edges of grass and _mareep_.

Grass softly rustled as he heard footsteps from behind him. Coda overreacted; he spun around, his hair standing on end, expecting the worst. It was Maven.

"Whoa, relax, brother. Just me." His voice was calm and expectant, as if the reaction Coda had given him was nothing out of the ordinary. Trudging along in his path was Salazar, his infamous _feraligatr_ companion. The gigantic archosaur had clearly grown even more since they had left for university. Now that he was back, Maven didn't let it leave him when he was outside on the farmlands. His parents hadn't given him much pushback over it, either. They were more worried about the Goldenrod incident than him. And it seemed like Salazar was content to follow its master's footsteps wherever he went, anyway. It had ended up sleeping out on the ground below his second-story window.

Coda hopped off the bale and landed down in a crouch. He reached out and pet the rough, bumpy head of Salazar. It had grown used to him quickly enough; thankfully it had only tried retaliating to his advances when it was small with tiny bites with its small, infantile teeth on his fingers, leaving nothing more than indentations on his skin. It moved its snout further and further under his hand, pushing up against his force, obviously enjoying the greeting it was receiving. The tiniest of its nudges sent his arm flying up in the air. Coda was in awe at the strength of the pokémon. He stood up.

"How's it going, Maven? What're you getting into today?" He realized how flat his voice fell in the air.

"Do I have a treat for you, dear old boy. Forget your plans. You're coming with me today." Maven's voice was compensating for his own. It was enthusiastic and wholesome.

"Well, father says today we have to shear some of the old ewes. You know how long that takes – "

"Nah, skip it. Got a secret for you. All you need is to leave your moodiness here. We're going into the forest today."

Coda laughed. For the first time in a long time. "And I thought I was depressed. Dear gods, we're not going into the forest. You want to just end it all, eh? Before the Black One gets us?" He felt goosebumps just talking about It. He felt like he shouldn't have said those words out loud. He stopped smiling and looked down, ashamed at how weak he'd become in just the last couple weeks. Maven picked up on this. He punched Coda in the shoulder, trying to put the jovial nature back in the conversation. "No, I don't have a death wish, ya prick. I've got a present for you. It'll cheer you up and maybe give you some purpose in your dull, whiny life. That way you won't off yourself on me. And relax, relax. I talked to your pops. We're gonna work the farm tomorrow, double-time. You owe me. Now, let's go."

"What? You still haven't said why we're going. Why in the world would be going into the woods?" He asked exasperatedly.

"I'll explain when we get there. Now shut up and follow along. Go along, Salazar."

The great blue beast parted from them, moving towards the creek that came from the forest. Coda and Maven walked back to the farmhouse, fetched their bicycles, and mounted them. Maven pushed ahead early, led in front, and they took the dirt roads that led north to the huge faction of trees that was Ecruteak Forest. It took them no longer than ten minutes as Maven paced them quickly, clearly on a schedule.

Ecruteak's woods were by no means safe. Any number of creatures would lurk amongst the shadows and mosses at any given time. Local lumberjack unions would stick to the edges of the wood, exposing themselves the least amount to the dangers as they could. It was a common rule to most of Pokkén: the farther you went in, the riskier it became.

They pulled up to the edge of the wood and threw their cycles down. There were no signs, no paths leading in. It was uncharted grounds, just as Arceus had intended for it be.

"What… the hell, man…" Coda panted, his hands on his knees. "You were pedaling like there was a cute girl waiting for you here. What's going on?"

"Arceus, save me. You need to learn some patience. And some endurance. Come on." He was barely breathing heavily, a slightly deep inspiration once every few words, but nothing like Coda, hunched over in his fits to keep up. He walked over behind a tree near his fallen bicycle and picked up a large wooden stick, clearly whittled at the bottom to be sharp. It was clear that Maven had been here before. Coda opened his mouth, gesturing at the stick, but Maven interjected once again, urging him to silence. He put his finger over his own mouth and a sense of urgency gripped Coda. _What is he leading me into?_

They entered the dungeon of deciduous darkness, feeling the early chill of a season changing to cold. Only a hundred feet in and Coda felt like they had already prolonged their stay and that they were unwelcome. He looked from side to side, listening for sounds in the quiet environment. As they went deeper still, the shorter he was able to see plainly. He should have had a stick at least, too, even if it didn't look like much. Or a pokémon.

Eventually Maven turned sharply right at a tree he had clearly marked with an arrow pointing east, of which Coda was thankful. Up until that point, he wasn't entirely sure his cousin had been properly circumventing his way through the forest. In addition, it could probably not get any darker than it was at the present. He was having trouble navigating the ground while futilely looking around for his own security and ended up tripping over small roots and fallen branches, which never failed to earn him a scorning look from Maven. Just as he was about to retort, the stubborn twenty-two-year old would indicate silence once again, and he'd turn his head and trudge forward.

After twenty minutes of the silent trailing, Coda had been fed up with the day already. He walked up to Maven, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. He used the sternest whisper he could muster.

"What are we doing here, seriously, Maven? This is _zubat_ -shit crazy. You expect me to follow you all day while we become _ursaring_ feed? You gotta explain your –"

"Okay, okay! Shut it. We're here anyways, I was just looking for the den."

"The _what_?"

"The den, the den. A _typhlosion_ den."

"Are you f – "

"Stop yourself before you hear me out. Okay? You know, just as much as I do, that a war's coming. It might be in a month, it might be in a year, but a war is coming, Coda." Maven's words cut harshly into the dark air, and Coda could feel it being somberly said. He could barely see it, but Maven's head was faced downwards, expelling the inconvenient truth from his mouth.

"People's words are flying around everywhere right now, conjecture. None of that matters. What matters is what we saw. And we saw it. And we know that what's back home is worth protecting. You know all this, brother." He paused and looked up. He surveyed Coda's eyes, but this time, his were looking down. Coda was shocked.

But Maven was right.

Everything he said was true, but Coda was still shaken, whether because of the solemn nature of his words or the fact that Coda had thought the same things. It did not help his case that the proximity of a _typhlosion_ 's den added to the palpable anxiety.

Maven went on. "Why do you think my mother is okay with me letting my twelve-foot reptile sleep under my window? Because it would die for me and because time is coming where men will need monsters like Zar. It's reality. War is part of humanity. But we'll be ready when it comes along." He took another breath.

"A sad part of reality." Coda spoke finally. He didn't know why he said it, but he felt like it needed to be said.

Maven didn't respond to it. He continued. "So last week my father told me the _comebee_ hives had been run clean in the middle of the night. Boxes scratched, broken into… only thing that hunts for honey like that are _ursaring_ or _typhlosion_ , so I followed the tracks into the woods. Led me to about here. That was the one time I kept Zar chained up at the lake. No way he'd be following me here on my investigations, ya know? I actually camped out a night since they tend to be nocturnal, especially these months leading up to their hibernation. And Coda…"

Coda's heart started beating audibly. "And?"

Maven smiled. Coda could actually see his white teeth in this amount of dark. "Found us a _typhlosion_ and a litter of cubs. They're about two months old, I'd say. Only twenty pounds. Should be able to run off with one. How ya feeling today? Strong?" He chuckled as softly as possible.

Coda had just stared at him in disbelief the entire last minute. "Maven," he couldn't find the right words. "You… you… um…"

"Spit it out, woman."

"You want to steal a _cyndaquil_ cub from a _typhlosion_ mother? With… only a stick?"

"No, I want you to steal a cub, idiot. I've already got a beast of my own."

Coda just stared. He moved his gaze slowly from him to the woods, where he only could imagine an eight-hundred-pound _typhlosion_ sleeping, preparing a den for the coming months. Next to it, sucking on its teats, were its little _cyndaquil_ cubs. And Maven wanted him to grab one right under the mother's nose.

"Okay."

Maven raised his arms in disbelief. "Oh, wow, I thought you'd argue more."

Coda thought so too. But he thought back to what Maven said, and it truly did make sense to him. He had never thought of raising a monster of his own besides a domesticated farm pokémon before, not to mention one for battling primarily. With a war potentially on the horizon, he needed to do something about it. This deliberation did not stop his stomach from feeling overturned and his head hurting. _Goldenrod could still be burning_. He shook his head, gripped his hands till they lost feeling, still staring at the darkness that lay ahead of him.

"So, uh, how do I do this? Where's the den? How do I steal a cub?"

"Use your book smarts, nerd. What do you remember about _typhlosion_?"

"You don't have a plan? You brought me out here to make my own plan? Are you serious, cousin?" Coda pushed Maven backwards, and started to move back to the edge of the forest. He wasn't going on a suicide mission. Not unless they had thought up a solid plan.

Maven chased after him, looking back over his shoulder in attempts to be cautious. "Whoa, this is a compliment to you, Coda! Take it easy. And besides, I caught Zar by myself, you can poach this boy."

"We found Zar together, but you beat me to him in the river! And he was in a _fucking egg_!" He enunciated the last part, hopefully conveying the stupidity of Maven's argument, not breaking stride in his march out of the forest, and away from the fool's plan.

"Coda!" Maven got in front of Coda this time, firmly planting his feet and holding his arm up, bar across his chest, not letting him take another step.

"Coda. Brother. You know these creatures better than anyone else. I brought you here because you need this. You need not only a fighting animal, but you need a companion. Look at me – you can do this. And I'm right here. Let's just try, okay? Tell me something – anything – about those things in there."

He grumbled, but his feet stopped moving much easier than he wanted. Deep down, Coda couldn't leave the forest. Maven was still right. Coda needed this cub, for more than one reason.

A hint of a smile crossed his face as Coda shook his head and looked away.

"I hate you, brother."

Maven chuckled again, louder this time, his confidence grown as the radius from the den had done the same.

"So, tell me something."

Coda didn't need to think long. The answers were sitting, waiting inside his head.

"Well, _typhlosion_ try and eat up to sixty pounds of food in a day, which increases near eighty before the winter for hibernation. Females give birth in the first couple summer months of the year. For the first half-year or so, _cyndaquil_ are blind… and deaf… so we've got that going for us. Plus, they're always eating, so chances are they'll be exposed at the mother's belly if I can get to it. They're developing the quill hide at this stage, but only their adolescent stage of _quilava_ and onwards can catch it on fire through coat secretions. If I wake the mother, there's a good chance she'll do that immediately upon waking."

"Yeah, so definitely don't do that. Can't they also shoot them off too?"

Coda paused. "Yeah."

"Continue."

" _Typhlosion_ teeth are made up of a flint-like enamel. They grind their teeth to create sparks. So, they can breathe fire, too. They've got large claws prime for digging." He started getting nervous all over again.

Maven grew impatient. He kept looking over his shoulder. "Think of the positives. What're you gonna do?"

Coda thought some more. And then he knew.

The den was a hundred feet off, dug into the base of a gigantic tree, the girth of it over ten feet. Maven hadn't gotten all too close to it, but judging from his observation, the den dug into the ground a few feet and hollowed out to a comfortable spot for the mother and its cubs. He had counted three in his brief investigations around the forest, but they did not travel out with the mother, he noted, so he wasn't entirely sure how many were in there. Coda had taken a quick trip to the farm and back on his bicycle, now believing himself to have gone faster than Maven on their initial journey. He was excited. He had a plan. He was going to capture a _cyndaquil_.

 _Cyndaquil_ started to wean off their mother's milk in favor of honey, insects and small forest creatures near the beginning of their first winter. This was evolutionarily purposed to put less metabolic demand on the aging _typhlosion_ mother so it, too, could survive the cold. Coupled with them being blind and deaf, but having a strong sense of smell, Coda thought to bring the buffet to them. The only problem was that the mother may smell it all too. It'd be sleeping longer and deeper, however; this was Coda's one saving grace.

So, there they were, two hours after their initial journey into the forest, standing not thirty feet from the den. Coda was prepared. He knew what he had to do, he had everything he needed, and all the knowledge he had learnt over his years had prepared him the best anyone could hope to be for something like this. He took a deep breath, looked to Maven, who nodded to him, and spotted Salazar thirty feet to his right, laying in a deep pool in the creek, sleeping lazily as the sunbeams spotted through the trees and bounced off the water and off his scales. _Well, he might come in handy soon enough_. He took the deep dive towards the den.

He noticed every crunch the leaves wept with capitulation every step he took. Every breathe sounded like a gale force. His eyes darted to and from, expecting the mother to not be sleeping at all, but waiting for him, its prey, and its babies would feast upon him even before he took his final breath. Ahead of him he finally saw the den, a black hole subtly carved into the ground next to the tree. The top of it reached the wood of the tree base, and Coda could not make out its depth. Not until he could make his feet move and see it up close.

He crouched and warily took creeping footings towards the base, now expecting the _typhlosion_ to pounce out like a _mightyena_ waiting for a _sentret._ He steeled himself, got down on all fours as quietly as possible, and crawled up to the edge and peered in.

At first all he saw was black, but as his eyes dilated and adjusted to the darkness, the mist of shadow fizzled away to make out the lumbering body of a gigantic creature down below, its deep slumbering breaths causing the earth to gently rumble at his fingertips where they were gripped on the precipice.

He looked closer and made out that the shape was laced with quills all upon the beast's shoulders, noting its back was facing him. The cubs would be on the other side nursing, if they were awake. He listened. _Damn, quiet._ He wished at least one was awake, they would be easier to coax towards him if that were the case.

He grabbed his rucksack and pulled out his secret weapon: wax paper laced with honey. He unrolled it and with shaking fingers laid it barely two inches from the mouth.

That's all Coda could make himself do that this point without running a beeline back to the farm and thank Arceus for sparing him from the wrath of nature and fiery pokémon. He waited to see what happened with his weak first move.

Ten minutes had passed, and nothing occurred. Coda was starting to worry. He would lay here until they woke up naturally along with the mother bear and then he would see his end. _No. Come on, Coda. Dammit_. He gently pushed the wax paper farther down, scraping against the in-laid rocks and roots – causing a scratching sound that Coda compared to nothing less than a banshee scream – until it laid three feet from the still-sleeping body. His fingers had caught the paper, sticky from the honey, and made a raspy paper noise when he withdrew his hand. And ice-cold shiver shot down his spine and his hair stood on end. A deep grumble emanated from the head he only could imagine was thrice the size of his, angrily dreaming of an intruder.

He held his breath so long he started to see black, letting the air drain from his mouth as quietly as possible, reentering at an even slower rate. The _typhlosion's_ body readjusted, rolling onto its back and letting its legs and engorged nipples up in the sky. It resumed its deep labored breaths once again. And then Coda heard a mew come from the other side of the den.

He watched obsessively as a cub crawled clumsily over its mother's stomach, blindly looking for food. Its repositioning must have woken it up. _Thank Arceus_. Its back was covered in small quills, a dark blue, stretching all the way to the end of its snout, which was voraciously sniffing as its eyes were tightly shut. Its belly was tan; made up of soft fur that Coda wanted to pet already, though he controlled his impulse for the right time. Its paws had no claws, they would have yet to grow out.

Its siblings – Coda counted four others – started chirping as they climbed their way over the mountain of their mother, trailing him. Coda could see the first to awaken was the largest by far; he fixated on it, determined to take the best of the litter. He took his index finger, drenched it in the honey still waiting on the paper, and slid on his stomach ever so quietly down the den. His finger was shaking due to his arm's weakness in holding it in an awkward position. He was, at this point, two feet from the mother, holding his index finger just proximal to her side. All for this large _cyndaquil_ cub.

It had started suckling before he had come down, as did the other cubs, but upon the entrance of the odor of honey in the air, it unlatched and sniffed, mewing once again. It crawled forward, with a cute difficulty trudging up the slightly slanted dirt wall, following his finger, and fell right over the edge of its mother's limb towards the ground. With incredible skill, Coda grabbed the cub with his sticky honey hand, immediately pulling it close to his chest. Euphoria. He couldn't believe it. He started crawling backwards up the den as deftly as possible, feeling as high as an _altaria_. _Thank Arceus._ His job was done.

But then, to his horror, the cub started yelping, scared of this new unforeseen danger. By the time he got off his knees in the cool, dark air of the forest, it was clear the _typhlosion_ mother was awake and angry.

Panic.

 _No. Oh gods, move!_ He quickly put the cub in his rucksack, threw it on his shoulder and ran for dear life, not looking to see if the monster was already out of the den or not. The distance he originally traversed seemed so much farther than before, even when he was dreading waking up the pokémon in the first place. He saw Maven as he sprinted up; he could see the questioning look on his face. "What the hell, Coda? Did you get – _oh, by the gods_! _RUN_!"

Coda didn't need any directions. He sprinted past him, Maven catching him as they both broke the tree line and found themselves in open sunlight. He heard the mighty roar of the volcanic pokémon and the rumble of fire as he could only guess its back had engulfed in flame and fire had begun to spit forth from its jaws. He heard the trees crackle as they were set forth. Maven looked to his left as they set foot on the open plains once again, beholding his _feraligatr_. "Salazar! Water!" He burst the command and it obeyed immediately; Maven had boasted to Coda they had practiced it down at the lake hundreds of times. It did not disappoint. Salazar found its target immediately.

The _typhlosion_ burst forth, a fiery torrent of motherhood madness. It stopped at the hill above the creek bed where Salazar now stood six feet high, its tail pounding the water as an aggressive play. The _typhlosion_ stood high, ten feet tall, and bellowed a humongous growl, squaring off with its new enemy. Salazar obeyed its master – it lurched back its belly and then shot a jet stream into the stomach of the fire pokémon. It landed with a strong force easy enough to blow back any man, but the bear withstood it fairly well, clearly in an outrage. It waited until the _feraligatr_ caught its breath and then started towards it with a speed that made Coda guilty for Maven bringing him out here. It could kill his young _feraligatr_ and all Maven had wanted was for Coda to have a pet of his own.

Salazar spit another jet stream at the _typhlosion_ , this time at its head, which seemed to do the trick. The _typhlosion_ tripped as its head dipped to avoid a direct hit to its eyes, and it cascaded forward and found itself exposed near the creek where the reptile was waiting for it. It opened its big jaws and latched onto the throat of the _typhlosion_ , ready for the kill, when he heard a deep voice behind him. His father.

"MAVEN! Call it off, NOW! Now, boy. Call it back!" He had a shotgun in his hands, ready to shoot.

Maven hurriedly called his monster off and it retreated to the creek's pool only a few feet away, eagerly waiting for the next command.

 _BOOM_.

A large blast ensued that rang Coda's ear drums and the _typhlosion_ fell limp, bleeding from thirty different sites where Heston had hit it. It was dead.

Heston turned to the boys. His head was hung. He breathed deeply, calmly, calculated. "You said you were taking him to the market today, Maven." In those words, so rationally and evenly spoken, was a deep bewilderment and disappointment. Coda talked first.

"Father, I –"

"What were you doing out here? You understand what this beast could do to you two? Why would you go into the forest unescorted?" Heston put the shotgun over his shoulder and walked over to the dead _typhlosion_. He lightly kicked its head, looking for any response. When he didn't see one, he turned once again to the silent duo.

"Explain yourself, boys."

Maven cleared his throat. He couldn't look at Heston, so he looked at his pokémon now walking up and smelling the dead _typhlosion_ , clearly wanting to feast. "He needs a pokémon, Mr. Fellroot. I wasn't meaning any disrespect. That's all."

Heston raised his eyebrows and stayed silent. He noticed Salazar's interest and walked away from the body. Salazar started to eat. Heston turned to his son.

"Show me."

Coda reached over his shoulder and pulled over the cloth lid to reveal his prize. The crying cub, now estranged from its litter all alone in the forest without their mother, next in line to be eaten by stranger beasts than them. Coda looked at his father in the eyes, drunk on some courage that was quickly fading from the past ordeal.

"He's right, father. We know a war is coming. And we'll have to fight. It's my duty to protect this land. For you. And mother."

A firm and deserving whack was given across the top of Coda's head.

"Dammit, boy, I didn't ask you for your opinion. Get back to the house. Now. Maven, call your beast off. Go home. Your parents will be hearing about this."

Coda looked to his cousin, hurt he had gotten him in trouble. Not only in trouble, but almost killed and his pokémon injured. Maven looked back, with one glance, his eyes open and full, his mouth in a crooked half-smile. It was as though he was saying, _don't mention it_ , in just one stare. Coda turned to grab his bicycle and start back to the house. Heston turned once more.

"Wait." His eyes were now looking at the tree line. "Give me your pack, son. Where were the other cubs?"

Back at the house, he greeted his mother quickly while running up the stairs with his new pokémon. She called out for him to wash up _because you look filthy!_ He barely heard her; he was already in his room, the door closed and his little cub on the floor. It pawed around nervously, shaking, crying. Its eyes opened in its shock, reflexively trying to gather any information about its surroundings, though its optic nerves still had a couple months to develop. It attempted to hold its footing but fell to the floor, continuing to mew.

Coda looked; it was a male _cyndaquil_. He took pride in knowing that meant it would be bigger than a female. Its back quills would grow longer and put out more flammable oils. Its claws would grow thicker, and its teeth would become sharper. Plus, he would not have to worry about it bleeding when it came time for mating season.

He sat there with it for a half an hour, just admiring the beauty of the wild creature now his, truly processing the meaning of its capture even though he knew its reality would come soon enough. Only when it continued to cry still, he realized it was hungry; he had interrupted its meal, after all.

On his way down the stairs he saw his father walk in. He gulped. They met gaze and his father walked over. Coda was flabbergasted as his father embraced him. He expected a different form of physical contact at this point in time.

"Well, isn't that adorable." His mother's gentle nonchalant voice echoed from the kitchen.

Heston Fellroot looked at his son. His tone of voice was oddly sarcastic and misplaced, but he understood why. "Now since you're a soldier-in-training already, why don't you tell your mother what transpired today." He looked expectantly, eyebrows raised, knowing this may have been more terrifying than facing off with the volcano pokémon from earlier in the day.

"What transpired? Oh, do tell!" The naïve voice popped up once again.

"Well, mother, I…" He looked to his father for an out which he knew was futile. He smiled, and walked out of the house, a little energy to his exit, as if Coda was at the epicenter of a _voltorb_ 's blast radius. "I poached a baby _typhlosion_ from its mother today."

It was true, he'd rather have faced the _typhlosion_ bare-handed.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Aside from his mother's wrath upon finding out about his misadventure, Ecruteak and the continent of Fiore at large had been at ease as of late. Two months had passed, bringing more rumors with the winds and the criers, though only whispering of minor skirmishes along the coastlines; no true formal declarations. People were impatient – not for war, but for any clear news.

Coda's cub had grown quite a bit in these eight weeks, and it had formed a ragtag bond with him, seeing him now as its master. The first couple weeks had been difficult – constant mewing and wailing, sometimes seeming so loud that Coda feared it would attract unwanted ursine visitors to the farm. He persisted, however. Coda had spent every waking moment with the young cub: putting him in his pack when doing tasks around the farmlands, eating his food outside next to the cub, sneaking him into his room at night to sleep at his feet, throwing his father's mandate to leave it out in its wooden box in the barn vacant every night.

Coda dubbed the animal Ursiendr, an old name echoing the primitive tales of old Fioren men of a specific larger-than-life _typhlosion_ wrecking villages that laid in its path of migration across the Northern mountain ranges. The tales said that Ursiendr was elusive like a pebble in the mountain winds but more powerful like a rockslide. They told of a gigantic creature whose fire touched every straw-lined roof in every village it neared, laying scourge and death upon every man, woman and child. No man had successfully hunted and killed Ursiendr, albeit many had tried. The horrific accounts of the pokémonster ended on a happy note for the primitives when they had found it in its den, dead of old age. They knew it was that particular _typhlosion_ , that infamous fire bear, from its coat frayed with battle scars from spears, arrows, axes, swords, pokémon teeth, and a hundred other unique things used in desperate tries to stop the monster attributed for the Northern Fiore man's destruction.

Ursiendr, the cub, laid in front of him at his feet as Coda sat up in the cold winter air. The body of the _cyndaqui_ was naturally warm and gave him a welcome remedy to the seeping frost that infiltrated the cracks of the old farmhouse. Ursiendr's body rose and fell in quick fashion as it slumbered away. It had slept much in the past two months. It was growing quickly and now twenty pounds, he guessed.

Coda revered it so dearly – especially more so after it had stopped crying for its mother. Young pokémon were impressionable, especially those exposed to a trainer.

It was theory, both religious and physiologic, that pokémon had an extreme predisposition to conform to the will of the Pokkén man. The Arceusean clerics and theologians alleged that it was due to Arceus' will; for It has created them together, with purpose. It was from the beginning of time that they were made, and this was Its ultimate plan: that the Pokkén monster be subjugated by the Pokkén man. _Treated with purpose, for the purpose of glorifying the Creator._ He recalled the saying, an old blessing Coda had heard his father pray in the past when it came time for slaughter.

Non-religious scientists had agreed with the end result but suffered in the avenue of explanation. Higher cerebral functioning was limited in many of these creatures, but through imprinting and repetitive stimulation of dopaminergic pathways of the forebrain (and midbrain if the pokémon was such evolved), it was possible to domesticate these creatures easily. The fact that it was still possible, albeit much more difficult, to train an aged monster, supported theories of an evolutionary notion that pokémon had grown through the eons alongside man, finding security, shelter, praise, and fitness with them. Either way, this had allowed Ursiendr to bridge the gap between man and monster and was Coda's prompt companion.

It yawned and rolled over Coda's numb foot. Its quills were growing longer each day, too, but they were retractable, most likely due to their domestication with man, evolving to match its needs. No man wanted to train a monster that might stab him in his sleep by accident. Coda smiled at the tired cub and picked it up. He cradled it in his arms and rubbed its swollen belly.

"Urs, you oaf. Wake up, cub. We've a big day today."

Verily, that day was a big day for the both of them. They would be going down to the Ecruteak gym to test the cub's mettle in its first fight. Although the world had sat at apparent peace, that did not mean every man was to sit back and wait to be killed. President Brightfield had decreed two weeks ago that all able-bodied men, eighteen to fifty years of age, were to start training at their local gym with their Guards and Gatekeepers. It was interesting to hear how the terminology had changed back to the olden ways in just a matter of months.

Government officials had come to the Fellroot estate last week with paper in hand and had read off the names of _Coda Terra Fellroot_ and _Maven_ _Aquaro Fellroot_ to their crying mothers. Both Heston and his brother Giles, Coda's uncle, had been grandfathered out. Coda remembered them hanging their heads as they listened to the absence of their names, almost in shame, as if they were too weak of men to fight for their country and for their families. They had lived in a peaceful time where weak men had been made, and now their sons would fight the wars that they had allowed to fester under their perched feet. These feelings were misguided, of course, but no old man was immune to them.

And so today Coda would meet Maven and train at the gym for the future of their country.

His critter awoke with another yawn, this time producing a slight cry, a unique one that Coda already knew meant that it was hungry. He set it down next to its bowl in the corner, filled with ground hide, beef and gristle from the _miltank_ and _tauros_ they routinely slaughtered. _Lots of protein_ , Heston had said. A nod of his hat. _It'll grow strong now_. After it had eaten, Coda donned his coat, equipped his pack, and put Ursiendr inside it. He ran down the stairs to see Maven eating a bowl of warm oatmeal talking with Coda's mother, Vestavia. She was asking him question after question, of which the subjects Coda was well aware.

"What're the Guards like? Oh, are they kind? I do hope they'll go easy on – oh Coda, eat your oats, quick, or they'll go cold!"

She lovingly placed his bowl down next to Maven's seat and pulled the chair out for him. She leaned down to brush off the seat with her kerchief, but pulled back before committing, as if it was too much.

"I can't, Mother, I'm sorry," Coda exclaimed as he leaned over and pulled a large scoop from the spoon to his mouth. "We're gonna be late."

Maven wiped the corner of his mouth and threw down his napkin. "Yes ma'am, we shall at that. We have to run now. Thanks, Aunt Vessie."

Coda turned as quickly as he greeted her and headed out the door, with not so much as a goodbye. It wasn't anger or frustration that hindered his interactions with his mother lately, it was the sadness. He'd be leaving her soon enough again. He was afraid that if he met her eyes with his, he'd start crying in front of her, and worse, in front of Maven. He wouldn't do that to them.

The frigid airs greeted him outside as he pioneered his way through the open door. He stopped, took a deep draught of the winter, and stared at the sky. A faint breeze carried the hint of snow in the air. Still dark, this early in the morning, the flakes contrasted the background, and with each unique precipitate that fell in front of his eyes, another thought entered his mind, further multiplying the anxiety and uneasiness Coda had been feeling. He took a step and it was not the cold crunch of the snow under his boots he felt, but the rubber skin of a _feraligatr_.

"Whoa! Goodness. Salazar! Maven, you can't really keep him there! He'll give my mother a heart attack! What if she came out to brush the dust off her broom?" Salazar had been hugging the corner of the house, sleeping, seemingly immune to the winter. Coda had almost stepped on its nose.

Maven popped into the amber door frame.

"Quit yapping, he's fine. Aren't you, Zar?" He scratched between his blood-colored spikes on his head. "Let's go on, then."

And down they walked the frozen road, three miles from the gymnasium.

After an hour, the sun had begun to spray sunshine across the dirt pathway that lit up Ecruteak in front of them. There, laying center to the town, was the gym. It was an old fortress, stone turrets set at each corner with ramparts connecting the arsenal towers, the flags of Johto proudly flying at each corner despite the cold. On the south side of the fortress would be a perpetually open drawbridge, welcoming any trainer who dare test the mettle of the North Johto Guard and Gatekeepers. It stood out awkwardly in the old town, filled with villages shops and quiet marts, like the town had once been braver and ferocious, and after the gymanisum had been built, found they preferred their old ways, and silently sunk back into the forest to be where they truly wished.

Making their way to the South side, Coda appreciated the monumental size of the gym. Its bailey walls were made of dark grey stone, spanning sixty feet high, with small arrow holes distributed across the side and in many rows and columns, indicating its grandiose stature and levels. At the top he saw men in armor, standing at guard, resolutely waiting for an attack that they convinced themselves to be inevitable.

Coda was thunderstruck when he saw the drawbridge was down with thick iron bars that not even a _rhyhorn_ could ram itself through at the conclusion of it. Maven, unaffected, walked up to it, and there answered a stern reply.

"And who crosses the Ecruteak Guard's path? Home of the Chosen, guardian of the trees, master of the astral planes, creator of nightmares?"

Coda thought he had tried to speak but only a grunting noise caught the mucus in his throat, and he looked at Maven helplessly. Maven tightened the thick leather leash on his beast and called back. "We are the Fellroots, answering the call of the Guard." Simple. Reserved. Courageous. _How was he so calm? I wanna go home. Tell us we're not welcome. I beg of you_.

Sensing his emotions, Maven put his hand on his shoulder. "Relax, pal. I've been training here for weeks now, remember? They gotta do this pomp and circumstance stuff, get it? How are we gonna be tough if we don't act tough? So, little cousin, stand tall."

With a rattle and a clanking, the iron gate shook and began to open for the two visitors. With each foot it rose, Coda's heartbeat responded in kind. He wasn't ready for this. Poor little Ursiendr wasn't either. _What if the thing can't even fight? I named it after Ursiendr, for_ Arceus _' sake._ His heart jolted when the gate stopped as suddenly as it started, and he followed Maven apprehensively inside. The small dark corridor that greeted them opened into a gigantic antechamber, stretching what seemed like the entirety of the stronghold outside. They had entered a castle. A castle existed in Ecruteak, and this was Coda's first step inside it his entire life. He was a soldier now.

The open inner ward was magnificent, stretching farther than the fields men used for different sports – hundreds of yards in width and hundreds of yards in length. The grounds echoed the fields of nature, almost as if Coda had taken a portal that the young _abra_ were said to create to escape prey, there being hills, ponds, lakes, trees, rocks, ash, sand, and more. Scattered throughout, about forty other men ranging from Coda and Maven's age to men just shy of his father stood with their beasts, undergoing myriads of training exercises. Man was sparring man, pokémon fighting other pokémon, men sitting on the grasses learning about other species of pokémon in classes, educating themselves on their methods of attack and avenues of weakness. Some of them were clad in heavy, dark armor, the _ampharos_ emblem on their left breastplate, walked to and fro these stations, their monster at their side and a book in hand. Some were teaching groups of soldiers, some were partaking in battles, with or without their pokémonsters. It was a glorious site, and Coda's heart skipped a beat. He was nervous but was also energized. This was his call now. _Stand tall, Fiore._

"Now, that's more your speed, champ." Maven pointed to a corner of the gym with a flat grassy field where smaller pokémon were gathered with their trainers. He squinted at them all from afar and took inventory: he saw a c _harmander_ laying down, its small tail ignited and wrapping itself up with it, a couple _sandslashes_ curled and rolling around each other in their stereotypical play, three _nidoran_ porcupettes hopping as a trailer attempted to wrangle them together, two _mankeys_ jumping from the shoulders of two Gatekeepers who were attempting to brawl them, five _geodude_ younglings clinging to each other in an amorphous blob as their trainer attempted to pick only the largest one up from the ground, four _eevee_ kittens with all their numerous geographic variations starting to take hold of their furs, a _teddiursa_ cub roaring as it faced off against a handful of _granbull_ and _growlithe_ pups, and a _vulpix_ kit silently watching the entire affair from behind its trainers legs, who seemed to have bred the pups with whom he was fighting the _teddiursa_. To him, it was like the pages of the library books had sprouted and come to life; he was enamored at the site. Coda felt like he should very much like to just sit back and watch all these pokémon interact with one another.

He was very glad that he should be sent to this corner of the battlements, as everything else around him was much more intimidating. Maven had already left him, riding the back of his gigantic _feraligatr_ , heading toward the corner where a large lake lay, where he saw a budding young _golduck_ break the surface of the water with its beak and four-pronged bony crown. _These lakes must communicate with the rivers here_. Past the lake he could make out the shapes of two _machoke_ adolescents wrestling, their grey-blue skin mixed in a discord that mirrored what only Coda could suppose was their trainer's silhouettes to the side, who were also wrestling each other. He turned his gaze left and skywards. Now he could see two fantastical _pidgeots_ twirling and cutting the sky in attempts to knock each other out of the air. He took note of their beaks and claws; they were tied closed and covered in what seemed like layers of a cloth so as not to injure the other, at least not too much. What didn't kill a pokémon or trainer here certainly made them stronger.

He finally covered the ground to the corner where the smaller pokémon gathered. A Gatekeeper saw him approach, broke his talk with a young man slightly older than Coda, and came over to him.

"Hail! What is your title and what brings you here?" The words, so fanciful and direct, threw Coda off.

"I-I'm here to train. I'm Coda. Fellroot, Coda Fellroot. I come with my cousin, Maven Fellroot." The words stumbled over his lips like babbling creek waters.

"Hm, yes. We were told to expect you. What beast do you present to the Guard here, for which I speak on his behalf?" He was unfazed by his awkwardness, asking the questions steely as though he'd asked them a hundred times before.

Coda pulled off his pack and opened it, cradling Ursiendr with his left arm. It squeaked pitifully, and Coda blushed. "Ursiendr, my _cyndaquil_."

The Gatekeeper pulled Ursiendr from Coda's grasp and held it up, inspecting it. He flipped it over, turned it back around, felt its back, opened its mouth and looked inside. "He is young but large for his age. Very good then. It is advised you read this before formally starting your first session today." He handed Coda a book, filled with a stack of pages tied weakly together by leather strappings and then turned to continue speaking with the man he was interrupted to greet Coda from before. Coda put Ursiender down at his feet and and inspected the binder. _The Principles and Philosophies of Monster Wars_ by General Cosmos the Conquerer. _This book may be as old as this man was_ , Coda bemused, looking at its elements. The pages were well worn, ripped and frayed on the edges and bearing a clear history of water damage, the ink stained and the paper extra crinkly in some areas. He stopped focusing on the state of the manuscript, sat down in the grassy nole he found himself, and read the contents.

The book talked about the etiquette of battle and the expectation a general has in the war of pokémon vs. pokémon for his soldiers. There was a true art of war and it was expected for soldiers to be knowledgeable of it. Coda glanced over the main sections. He didn't want to be reading this while men around him were working on practical things, but, like the bookworm he was, stuck his nose in and pored over it:

 _The etiquette of battle is to always be expected of a man, even in times of pure terror and dissonance. Whether it be on air, land, or sea, the soldier shall always fight next with or near its pokémon. A pokémon is a creature to be dominated by man and without his guidance or responsibility, the order of battle is clearly disrupted and almost certainly favors the enemy. When man and beast fight side-by-side, collaboration and encouragement are possible, allowing man to aid in the monster fight and monster to aid in the human fight._

 _During the fight, it is the monster's duty to obey its master's command. It is the master's duty to stay clear of thought and mandate appropriately. During your training exercises, your goal will be to have your monster learn and follow your every intention. Our military expertise coupled with the pokémon's natural trainability will give you these opportunities to teach it pertinent and deadly commands for it to follow in battle. The faster and best a creature follows instructions, the higher your chances of surviving and defeating our enemies becomes. Stand tall, Fiore._

He looked turned to the index after the introduction. He gulped. A hundred pages, broken into sections of fighting styles of humans against pokémon, humans with pokémon against pokémon, humans with pokémon against humans with pokémon, all different types of training and fighting techniques for each type of beast, whether it be in air, land, flame, sea, with various subsections involving other affinities such as poison-like monsters, astral beasts (though due to its advanced age, they had called it netherworldly at the time), metallurgic pokémon, and so on and so forth. He looked up from the book to see if anyone were watching. _Did they want me to read this right now?_

Coda looked down to his right foot where had he felt a nudge. Ursiendr, clearly not ready for any type of battle, was rolling on its back and had met his foot. It popped quickly on its feet and squared up to the sneaker it had trounced upon. Without hesitation, it started gnawing on the rubber, succumbing to the exhausting attack in all but three seconds, falling once again on its back and rolling away on the grass floor of the gymnasium. Coda chuckled. "We've got a ways to go, Urs. Here, boy."

It continued squirming on its back, scratching it while now chewing on a piece of dirt it had rolled into on its careless journey across the ground. Its master's call did not faze it whatsoever.

A small creature appeared in the edges of Coda's vision as he stood looking at his dumb _cyndaquil_. It had a pointed, rodent-like nose and its eyes were black and beady. Plates of yellow scaled across its back but left a soft, pink underbelly on its front. Its claws were small but sharp, and they were poised as its stood hunched, smelling the air, the thin, almost invisible whiskers twinking as it approached Ursiendr closer and closer.

Ursiendr clearly was preoccupied with the ball of dirt in its mouth at this point and did not even notice the _sandshrew_ approaching it, which was now sniffing its body as it was only inches away. The _sandshrew_ picked its head up from its sleuthing and made a slight peep, a possible attempt at communication.

Ursiendr froze for but a moment and quickly wiggled back to its four limbs. It ran straight for Coda's heels, hiding behind them from its new aggressor. The _sandshrew_ crawled to it once again, and Coda kneeled and grabbed his pet.

"Come now, boy. Be brave." He dropped him at his front, a foot away from the rodent pokémon. It sniffed the air, and perhaps sensed an amicable pheromone wafting from the cute pokémon advancing toward it still and approached it in kind. When they met, the two sniffed each other's fur, ending the kerfuffle anticlimactically as they both laid down on the ground, overlapping their heads and bodies upon each other.

Coda heard a voice behind him.

"Oh! This is good. Please, praise your beast now. Give him this." Coda looked over his shoulder and saw a bespectacled man barely a few years older than he staring at him ambivalently, almost through him. In his extended left hand, an uneven lump of dark, crystal-like food sat.

"Uh, thanks. Why is this good? And what is this thing?" He took the hard piece of food out of his hand. He wondered if this was the _sandshrew's_ handler.

It was almost as if the awkward man hadn't really heard him. He continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "At a pokémon's juvenile stage, one of the most important things it can learn is to differentiate friend from foe. How does it do this, you ask?" Coda hadn't. "Well, it's up to the trainer! Your future _typhlosion_ will be quite a menace to our Fiore if it can lay quietly next to a _nidoking_ but growl at the smell of a Sinnohan's _aggron_. This depends on you, uh –" He looked at a clipboard anxiously, "Mr. Trainer."

Coda took the knowledge in gratefully, albeit the standoffish advances of the bookish man. He held his hand out for a shake. "Coda Fellroot. Thank you."

It was returned just as he expected. Daintily and without eye contact. "Yes, thank you. I mean, you're welcome. My name is Dewey." His sweaty hand unclasped Coda's after he had nodded far too many times. He was wearing a dark jacket with the Johto crest to denote his stately occupation. Underneath the logo it read _Dewey Brasshorn, Department of Behavior, Johto Military_.

Little did he know, the first session had begun.

* * *

Over the course of the next two months, Coda learned everything he desired and needed about battling and training Ursiendr. Every morning, Coda and Maven would take the lonesome, dirt road down the resolute pine trees of the Ecruteak forest to the training yard and split into their respective groups. The mornings were cold but their conversations each morning gave them energy. Both were excited for each new challenging day, looking forward to calling out to the guards at the gate, proudly stating their names and why they stood there in the still, freezing dark. They would say their goodbyes as they parted, not to speak another word to each other until it was time to leave for the day. They were fully enthralled in the Johtoan art of war, lost in the boyhood dream of war, concocted by a safeguarded fantasy from the recipe of duty and the thrill of the fight. It appeared some days it had lost on the them that they may very well have to leave their homes and go fight amongst the real mountains and forests of their homeland; to them, it was an escape, an adventure, an extension of the times they spent wrestling amongst the roars of the dandelions in the farmyard, daydreaming of greater things.

Their days were broken down like so: for the first couple hours of the day, solo practice sessions took place, guided only by the trainer. Using only their worn war notes given to them on their preliminary classroom days (they had in fact been tasked to read the entirety of _Principles and Philosophies_ in the first week, with multiple examinations plaguing all the enlisted), they would attempt to teach their pokémon basic domestic functions that would make the camping stages of life at war fluid and manageable. _Peace between battles will bring peace in war_ , General Cosmos had simply stated. After this, the pokémon would be tested on their aggressive maneuvers in the surroundings of others, sharpening their focus and demanding perfect obedience in a busy environment. Coda would call out attacks for his small cub to perform on a raggedy doll that lay in the center of the practice ground while others in the group did the same in the general proximity. Coda was still confined to the small pokémon region of the battlefield; he would not move to the medium-range fields until Ursiendr had grown well over sixty pounds. Despite being so far away, however, he still could sometimes make out Maven across the field barking orders and seeing the great _feraligatr_ dive in and out of the water, spouting water or ice streams to hit rocks thrown across the lake by those standing around the edge. The sight inspired Coda. Seeing his older cousin marvelously call out to Salazar and it respond with the sincerest ferocity, it transported Coda into a nearby future where Ursiendr stood ten feet tall and its back aflame, not only priding himself but his fellow countrymen.

They would then break for a quick lunch, resuming to spar amongst each other with their own pokémon or be drilled on quick fire scenarios by the Gatekeepers, rapidly asking each trainer for a solution to a battle or base-type scenario. Answering wrong or too slowly was penalized with physical exercise, clearly encouraging the soldiers to be quick on their feet and in their head. No one was immune to the wrong answers, however, as it seemed that the Gatekeepers accepted a very narrow strait of answers, making the next part of their day that much worse.

This involved human-to-human fighting and physical conditioning. Most of the time the men were forced to run four laps around the complex (of which the circumference was at least a mile), and then were placed in a variety of physical combat situations. Sometimes they would be thrown into the ring with their bare hands, sometimes one with a wooden sword and the other with no weapon, other times evenly matched. The Gatekeepers subjected them to every possible plot in which they might find themselves throughout their military career. The day finished with a quick class session taught by a Gatekeeper on battlefield tactics and recognizing their Guard's callouts and commands. _A soldier's obedience to his Guard is equally important as the Pokémon's obedience to its master_.

Dewey Brasshorn, the behavioralist, had been stationed at the small range pokémon so he had given Coda much of his attention in the past weeks. He was spread thin, busy with the demand of addressing each new question and overseeing sparring sessions for tips and fixes. Though, perhaps due to Coda giving him the respect he was not used to, he tended to idle by him and Ursiendr, watching their party and always offering help, whether Coda asked for it or not. He had helped teach Coda how to call out Ursiendr's next move, when to withdraw him to his side, how to easily get him to ignite himself, and how to recognize friend versus foe. The rate at which pokémon learned was incredible, and the rate at which Ursiendr grew was even more so staggering.

Each trainer was issued nutritional supplements for his monsters every week, to be added in their feed or given as frequent treats in their training. This steroidal substance was the same rock-hard sweet that Dewey had handed Coda upon their first interaction, and it enticed not only Ursiendr but every pokémon in the facility to obey its master's every word. During wartime it was standard issue for these candies to be given to all soldiers to, as the decree given by the Kanto-Johto alliance stated, "expedite the process of war preparation, the growth of pokémon, and bond between beast and master", but they were an expensive commodity that were heavily abused during peaceful times. It was not uncommon for the sweet to be crushed and snorted for recreational pleasures, causing extreme elation and energy for short periods of time. They were sold for hundreds of crowns per pound by dealers within the continent and could be synthesized by a skilled chemist knowledgeable in the arts of high-pressure distillation and crystallization, extracting venoms from a few different pokémon, namely _pinsir_ , _qwilfish,_ and _dustox_. Its smuggling being of an intercontinental scale, it had been deemed a public safety issue, thus these restrictions had been created since the inception of its widespread popularity. Bio-evolutionary Immune-modulating Growth Hormones were not allowed outside of the gym and had be kept and accounted for in each soldier's locker assigned to them personally in the vaults of the gymnasium. Because of their superior nourishment effects and its extremely taboo nature, BIG-H had been given the nickname Rare Candy. Coda found it funny that inside the grounds, it had been encouraged to feed their pokémon with these candies as if they truly were a chocolatey delight, though outside those walls, penalty of imprisonment scared them all straight.

Dewey was kind, but had trouble hiding his patience when he was forced to explain himself more than twice. It was not a fault of character so much as a trouble understanding interactions with his fellow man, but it did not keep Coda from appreciating the analyst's quirky attitude. They had become close friends because of their loneliness. Coda was by himself, away from Maven, for almost half of each day, and perhaps Dewey just needed anyone with whom to converse, for it was quite clear Dewey had never experienced the pleasures of brotherly friendship with anyone, describing himself as an only child, living by his lonesome at a group lodging only a five-minute walk from there in town. A single question of Coda's would send the flood gates of garrulousness forth from Dewey's mouth, only able to be dammed once again by another question, this time properly targeted on something that could answered in one breath.

Dewey had come to the pub with Maven and Coda after training days on more than one occasion, steadily testing the patience of the cousins as they attempted to share a drink in tired silence, withstanding the excitedly dorky pellets of pokémon trivia and battering of inconsequential questions that came from the naïve scientist. They could not help but love him while slightly pitying him. Maven had not had the formal pleasure of training with the geek but seeing his younger cousin's progressive steps towards battle readiness and his testimony of Dewey himself, he had allowed himself to befriend him. He would never fight in the war, but they had realized how brotherly they had become, and how much camaraderie he added to their group. He was theirs now.

It was tonight, those two-and-some-odd months since Coda's first frosty day at the gates of the Ecruteak gym, that the cousins and Dewey were sitting and drinking at their local favorite, The Lonely Tree, the pub they had visited so many times recently. The cold had relented slightly as the sun's strength beat harder on its chest each new day, and with it, an added energy to them trio.

Coda and the gang had sat down at the bar and accepted their favorite drinks from the owner who knew each of their tendencies all too well at this point. An hour had passed, and they had fielded topic after topic with each other tonight: the weather, how the fellow's _gyarados_ was looking, the rumors that a soldier in _Cerulea_ had allegedly captured a _dragonair_ off the coast, among others. Dewey had then shifted to a more pertinent one: he plopped down his drink with a grimace and talked how Ursiendr could be classified as a _quilava_ at this point in time.

It was most likely true. Coda had been studying it and agreed. The biggest qualifying factors of a _quilava_ vs. a _cyndaquil_ was the presence of head quills, a fully flammable coat, and the ability to maintain a flame for over three seconds. All of these new characteristics made it a formidable foe.

"How much so," Dewey went on, "will be put to the test tomorrow morning in your trials, won't it, Coda?"

Coda sat there, looking straight ahead, much accommodated to the redundant, off-putting questions Dewey was so prone to blurt out. The type that everyone knew the answer to but were spoken solely for the continuation of a dead, worthless, or discouraged conversation. He took a deep swig of his beer at that moment, hoping the alcohol would ease his nerves, but it was becoming apparent that he'd need something stronger to calm him.

"How you feeling, soldier?" Maven hopped in, loving Dewey's awkwardness, solely for the fact that it bothered Coda so much. He smirked over his pint. He had passed his trial two weeks prior, wrestling a Gatekeeper to the ground while simultaneously ordering Salazar to carry out a number of attacks on a multitude of dummy pokémon in the gymnasium, under the wary judgment of the other Gatekeepers. Normally, the Guard himself would be there but due to his recent elevation to Chosen for the country of Johto, Greeley had not been in Ecruteak since Coda, Maven and his father had fled back from Goldenrod.

Coda didn't speak. He ignored his cousin, who was only trying to irk him. He took another draught and stared straight ahead.

"Hey Coda, Maven asked you how you were feeling. Did you hear him? It is quite loud in this pub. Perhaps you didn't –"

"I heard him, Dewey. I heard him," Coda laughed at his naivety. "I'm nervous as hell, alright? You happy, Maven? You're sitting pretty over there while I stew."

"Hah! You know you'll be fine. You've been preparing for months now. You know Ursiendr well, he knows you. You've actually got an ounce of strength now, too." He bumped elbows with his younger cousin. "Plus, you've got the best scientist in all of Pokkén teaching you. What do you think Dr. Brasshorn?"

Dewey looked down abashedly. "Oh, I'm not a graduate yet, remember, Maven? My studies were interrupted by this debacle." No one responded. They found not responding prompted him to realizing his error and continuing with the appropriate reply.

"But yes, he will do well. You will do well, Coda. Just remember what we reviewed earlier today. You know your beast best. A pokémon can hear the confidence in a trainer's voice, so be brave and it will be brave, too. Stand tall, Fiore!" With the mantra, he raised his glass, and the others did the same. They finished their drinks, bade each other farewell and returned to their homes for sleep. It was a big day tomorrow.

* * *

Coda awoke with a jolt, his heart beating faster than a _ledian_ 's wings. He looked to his feet to see his one-hundred-pound _quilava_ slumbering away, not truly understanding what today meant for him. He scratched Ursiendr's belly, thinking about what he needed to accomplish and how he was going to do so. His companion stirred awake with a big yawn. He saw Coda and started wagging the small rump of a tail he had and licked his face all up and down. Coda laughed. _I can do this._ He petted the soft fur between the quills on his monster's back. _We can do this_.

"Who's my big Urs? Who is he? You are!" He teased and praised his _typhlosion_ adolescent like he always did, which spurred more face licks and more rump wagging. Coda loved it. And he loved his creature.

He sat at the breakfast table where Maven was, of course, already there, bemusing himself with what only could have been the thought of watching Coda sweat all the way up to the start of his trials. They greeted each other amicably and Maven pushed a bowl of warm oats and a plate of eggs towards him.

"You gotta eat, you know that."

"Thanks. I will, but I gotta feed –"

"I'll feed Urs, you focus right now." Maven opened the door for the pokémon to leave, and, in the doorway, Ursiendr turned, sniffing the long reptilian snout of Salazar, waiting as always outside. Coda couldn't see much else than the two pokémon licking each other's noses before Maven pushed Ursiendr out of the doorframe with his knee, adding "Come on, ya fruits! You're letting the bugs in."

Coda chuckled. It set his heart at ease knowing he would have Maven there with him today. He was calm and collected in the heat of the moment, always knowing the next step and never faltering. He may have barely passed his university courses, but he sailed through his battle preparations.

* * *

"Trainer, are you ready?" A Gatekeeper twenty yards away stared at him with his hand held high. He looked from him back to a Gatekeeper that stood right in front of him, a wooden sword in his hand. He looked from this Gatekeeper's hand to his own hand, where he grasped the hilt of a wooden sword as well. He looked from his sword to his left, where Ursiendr stood staring at him, awaiting orders, unsure of the situation but nonetheless seemingly ready, his quills erect and smoke hazily wafting off his back.

He wasn't ready. But he had to be.

"Yes."

"Go!"

The Gatekeeper in front of him immediately yelled and dove at him, his sword arm cocked behind his shoulder, ready to do serious damage to him if Coda wouldn't react. He threw up his sword instinctively, catching the blade but with nowhere near the same force his aggressor had, pushing him back three feet, causing him to almost lose balance. Quickly, to his left, he looked at the situation: three Gatekeepers threw nets to Ursiendr that spread mid-air in attempts to entrap his pokémon. Being from three different angles, Urs shrunk backwards.

"Urs, fire! Straight on!"

The _quilava_ remarkably responded albeit the rising pressure, quickly choking a ball of flame forwards towards the net in front of it, singeing it down the middle, triggering its two split ends to careen in two different directions on either side of him. He let out a deep guttural grunt at the Gatekeepers, who were already getting ready for their next attack, completely unfazed by the hostility the pokémon made towards them. They had seen far scarier, Coda was sure.

His eyes shot back just in time to block another overhead swing from his challenger and made a quick stab towards the leather-plated abdomen in front of him, but it was quickly parried. Another swing came again, forcing him to duck and spin, using his momentum to land a broad swipe across the right ribcage of the Gatekeeper. The man grunted angrily, touching his side, evaluating for broken bones, but promptly steeled himself and pushed forwards again.

The slight retreat the Gatekeeper made gave him another moment to command Urs to attack a dummy to his right that was shooting a jet of water from a hole in its poorly-crafted head, being supplied from the side of the gym where workers were hand pumping furiously. Coda commanded Urs to "ignite" and "tackle", skills they had worked on adding to their battle portfolio in the previous weeks. Ursiendr grumbled, and his back caught flames in a small explosion, extending up to his mane and partly down his limbs. He ran towards the dummy, dodging the oscillating sprinkler's shots and jumped straight up at it with impressive strength and height, landing its open jaws on the dummy's neck, wriggling his head back and forth with the intent purpose to tear flesh. The dummy quickly fell to the ground in a smoke, and Ursiendr's clenched jaws heated up as it scorched the burlap fabrics, unveiling the cotton that mimicked the flesh underneath.

And then, a blinding pain to the back of his head. Coda blacked out momentarily, kneeling down, catching his breath. He'd been smacked during his glancing aside. He rolled to the right as he heard another wooden strike coming down on him. He heard the Gatekeepers preparing for their next attack on Urs, though he wasn't sure what it was intending to be. His head ached and his vision blinked between black and colors. The Gatekeepers were relentless, and Coda was now lost in the panic.

"Defend! Urs, defend!" He couldn't focus on what his creature was going through but putting him on his guard was better than keeping him vulnerable. Coda had a throbbing pain on the back of his skull and he just noticed he didn't have his sword in hand. He didn't have time to roll back to grab it either; he would have to try and disarm his aggressor at this point.

But the swing came quicker than he anticipated, and in his attempt to grab the Gatekeeper's elbow, he missed, and he then saw black.

* * *

He awoke, and despite feeling groggy and slow, immediately understood what had happened, and felt pathetic. He looked up, seeing the interior of the gymnasium and the hazy faces of Maven, Dewey and several Gatekeepers chatting amongst themselves casually. He moaned in pain and looked to his right to see Ursiendr spinning in a circle, now piling on top of him and licking his face. Not understanding how large he truly was, the _quilava_ stood on his chest and sniffed his face, happily panting as if he was waiting for this moment for a millennium. Coda put his hand up and scratched his pokémon behind his ears.

"Gods damn it. I'm spitiful," he muttered. "I'm sorry, pal," he whispered it softly to his companion, though the giddy pokémon clearly felt like it had won a grand prize in his master's awakening.

The Gatekeeper, the one who had knocked him out, approached with a stern look.

"A heroic attempt, soldier. You failed, however, and you will have two weeks until your next trial. You will have intensive training sessions every day, and we are obligated to report this to the Guard, our Johtoan Chosen. Our military demands perfection and war is unforgiving. We are sure you will pass the second time in lieu of the consequences. Stand tall, soldier, Fiore needs you."

The backhanded nature of the Gatekeeper's alleged encouragement stung through Coda like a _beedrill_ , and he nodded, stood up without any help from the extended arms of Dewey, Maven, and the Gatekeeper, and turned away quickly to leave to avoid breaking down in front of everyone. He hated himself in this moment. _I don't deserve to be a fighter. I'm weak. How could I let everyone down?_

He dejectedly called Ursiendr over and told him to heel as he walked out of the stadium. He passed through the iron gates and took a left towards the stables, the large long wooden building that housed all the monsters for the soldiers overnight. He gathered a large tin of Ursiendr's assigned feed and walked to his assigned cell. He undid the combination lock, pulled the metal bar through and up, and opened the door to a solitary moonlit room large enough to house two large pokémon. He sat on the floor with his beast and said, "Eat, friend." Ursiendr happily dipped his head into the can, making what would be obscenely hilarious grunts as he engulfed his food, but Coda couldn't stomach the thought of even smiling at this point. He had failed everyone. He would get another chance, yes, but he would wear this failure like a badge of shame throughout his journey now, and there was no way around that.

Ursiendr looked at his master as he came up for a breath of fresh air, crumbs falling out of the corners of his mouth.

"Well, you certainly don't care about any of this, do you?" Coda said sarcastically. Ursiendr yelped amicably.

He sat in silence while the _quilava_ finished its food.

A half an hour had passed when the cell door opened to reveal Maven. Coda couldn't look at him, keeping his arms crossed around his knees, still sitting down, next to the now sleeping Ursiendr. He reached his hand out quietly, offering to help him up. Coda obliged.

Out of nowhere, Maven threw a ridiculously hard punch at Coda's shoulder. Coda winced but stood there and took it, feeling like even though he had no idea what the reason for it was, he deserved it nonetheless.

"You see? You're tough. This ain't the first time someone's failed. This ain't your first time failing at something. You'll get through this." He sounded unconcerned in the most genuine way. After a long, thoughtful pause, he continued, "D'you remember when we took that ecology class together last term? What was it called, A Study of Monster Migration from – Arceus knows – some prehistoric year to another unforgettable year? I joined that class with you because, well, you're you, and I knew if I joined, I would get easy marks since I'd've copied offa you. But, knowing me, I got competitive, so I didn't take the easy way out." He smirked and spat on the ground. "We're always so competitive."

Another pause. "So yeah, I was failing that course. Probably a good thing our term was cancelled, aye?"

They both laughed, the kind of laughs that start from a silent grin, to a shaking of the shoulders, to crouching over and holding your stomach, to finally ending with a gasp for air. Maven crouched down and put a hand on Coda's shoulder and finally, and Coda finally looked up to meet his gaze. In the corner of Maven's eye, he swore he could see the glint of liquid emotion. "The beer's on me tonight, cousin."

* * *

"Where's Dewey?" Coda asked as they pulled up their seats at the lonely bar just on the outskirts of Ecruteak.

"Not sure," his cousin answered, unfocused on the question. He stared down at his drink and took a deep breath. He appeared anxious and tired.

"Hey, I shouldn't have to be cheering you up tonight, man. This is my night to woe." He chuckled. The beer was putting a warmth back in him that he'd previously lost.

Maven's face stayed unchanged. "I'm leaving, Coda."

"What?"

"I'm leaving. I have to leave. I'm deploying to the eastern shore of Fiore tomorrow."

Coda was speechless. The _beedrill_ sting was back and even larger than before. He felt his eyes welling and there was nothing he could do to stop them. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I only found out today, pal. They need aquatic forces to stop the movement before the Sinnoh Navy moves on us. They're… moving fast, apparently."

They both fingered their bottles' edges and rims as they despondently looked about the pub. Coda eyed the walls, the banners, the candles, the people, seeing the same visage and the same regulars he had seen every time he'd been in there before. It was funny how everything became so much more interesting and liable for scrutiny when one became so very sad and needed an out to a conversation, or a way to silently mope.

The entire evening's attempt to reconsolidate Coda's confidence, happiness, and security crumbled in those thirty seconds. The feelings of weakness returned again, threefold, for he couldn't stop wiping his eyes as they distorted his vision in his stubborn attempts to withstand addressing it.

"Are they sending you away because I failed?" At this point his words were stuttered and wet, his nose fully running, and Coda could only imagine how childish he sounded.

"Coda, no. Of course not, come now. Don't be ridiculous. This has nothing to do with that." He bid a weak smile, "They just need a hero right now, so I thought I'd help out."

Coda laughed, though it was an ugly, snorting laugh, full of snot and tears. "You will be, I know it. You will be, Maven." Though Maven was joking, Coda meant what he said with every fiber of his being, and at that, he held his glass high for his cousin – no, his brother – to meet it. "Stand tall, soldier."

Their glasses clinked fragilely, with a meekness that betrayed itself of strength and sincerity.

"Stand tall."


	10. Chapter 9 (WFTN)

**Chapter 9**

He stared at the sand in his palm, watching it sift and seep through the spaces between his fingers. It was white, warm, and soft. On a typical summer day such as today, this beach would have been busy with families and crowds, here to enjoy the heat of the sun and the cool relief of the Brallian waves. There hadn't been a woman to step foot on this wonderful sand in over two years.

He looked out to the sea. It wasn't a particularly windy day by any means, but the waves rolled towards him with a deep blue vigor, audibly crashing onto the beachfront and attempting to breach the boots of his fellow soldiers, all standing around with their pokémon, waiting for the waves to bring anything other than a want to shed their clothes and a peaceful lay.

He broke out his canteen to take a swig of water. It was so hot, and the large expanse of saltwater that lay before him teased him with its saline insincerity. The metal indentations on the round bottle boasted to which unit he belonged:

 _Anchor Squad  
of the 9_ _th_ _Seafaring Company  
3_ _rd_ _Kanto-Johto Navy Fleet_

 _We'll drop an anchor and we'll drop you!_ The songs he and his compatriots used to sing during their training sessions out at sea rang through his head as he took a seat idly in the sand, resting his hands on his knees. The Kanto-Johto Navy had four fleets of over a thousand men apiece and, from there, was subsequently broken into even smaller sections, all headed by separate Gatekeepers. He was never alone, but moments such as this made him feel serene and at himself. Right now, everything was calm.

The rays of heat bounced off the beach, broiling him from every angle. He almost wanted the fight to start so he wouldn't have to roast while he waited around. Everything hung like a spindle in the gay breeze, all in their own reoccurring fantasies, producing what the creator had intended for them, never abnormal in function. A few minutes passed of this before the waves produced a slightly more boisterous sound as Abzu, his _blastoise_ , broke the shallow longshore trough and crawled his way to his master, happily collapsing next to his side, wet and bloated. It was crunching what only its master could guess was a _shellder_ it had found burrowed in the sandbar.

He laid his back on Abzu, happy for the coolness and shade with which it had graced him. It had been out underwater for nearly two hours, resting and filling the gigantic organs underneath its enormous shell it used as water storage. It would need it later for battle.

Abzu was a stocky feat of nature, weighing close to two tons and measuring up to five feet while on his four legs. Its thick, leathery blue skin was scarred with slashes and littered with carbuncles. Bumpy and mottled, it was made up of many small scales that gave it a grizzly, impenetrable appearance. Coral adhered to various random parts of its body, having taken hold during its frequent, long underwater slumbers. It was close to fourteen years old at this point, having been submitted to its trainer during its _wartortle_ adolescence. The navyman patted its hard carapace, an extension of its skeleton that had expandedt with its internal bony growth. It was stuck inside this shell, but it was vital to its nature and integral to its might.

He looked to the grumbling Abzu, moving its huge sharp beak towards him, digging it underneath his arm and pushing it upwards, clearly indicating it wanted to be petted. It was quite the common routine with Abzu. _Always wanting praise_ , he rolled his eyes. It was hard to imagine that only four years ago he had been diving in the deep reefs south of Fuschia when he caught sight of the much smaller _wartotle_ it once was, swimming between the rocky projections a mere twenty feet below the surface of the sea, dipping its beak down in crevices and crannies looking for its next meal. Its tail had wafted back and forth slothfully in the current, stabilizing its body while it impishly broke _goldeen_ and _horsea_ homes, and snatching them as they scattered.

It was an easy capture, altogether; Abzu loved to eat, and the mere twenty minutes of scouting that fated day proved just as much to him. He took chum, mixed it with commercial sleeping powder he had bought at the local mart. He watched as it sank to the bottom of the seabed, leaving trails of bubbles in the wake. When he found it on the seabed floor, it had retreated into its shell sensing an incoming altered sensorium. He chuckled. _He couldn't retreat into his shell anymore._ He scratched the blubbery neck of Abzu, still smiling as it jiggled back and forth.

Along the expanse of the beach were close to ten other soldiers, all masters of water pokémon. A couple rode _lapras_ out among the waves, throwing a large leather ball to each from the sturdy backs of the sauropterygians. Another few navymen rode barely above the surface of their water-retardant suits, in between the jagged spinous fins of _gyarados_. A soldier on shore threw rocks into the tide while his two _vaporeon_ vixen chased the splashes into oblivion. Further down the coast, a _dragonair_ curled around its master napping, also doing the same as it enjoyed the cozy haven in his creature's bronzing skin. Paddlings of _golducks_ , bobs of _seel_ , and herds of _quagsire_ were skewed across the sandy landscape, watched over by their masters, all with a weather eye on the horizon. A horizon that had brought nothing in return to their steely gaze.

The sun had careened downwards in the sky, transfiguring to a melancholy orange, painting the sky a deep pink when he noticed his company packing their things and moving back towards base camp, a couple miles inland. The men with water-dwelling pokémon were taxied to shore and hopped off their backs, trudging their wet feet to dry land. Their pokémon would not go far; ichthyic monsters that were tamed would stay accessible to their masters, always sleeping or floating a mile within the shoreline, waiting for their return. Sometimes all it took were the unique vibrations of the master's voice on the water to bring them up from the depths. Abzu preferred _krabby_ to his voice, but would come to him anyway when called.

He parted with his beast and took the long walk back to camp, back to his small bed stacked alongside all the other beds, methodically aligned under the gigantic breadth of the main tent. Exhausted, he collapsed onto the mattress which received him with a chorus of old springs groaning. Above him another mattress rang out in defiance – and with it, to his right, left, behind him, and afore him, all rang out as man after man greeted sleep. He was truly never alone.

He reached underneath his pillow and pulled out the two things he had to his name: an old photograph and an Arceus trinket. The photograph was ten years old, scuffed and frayed along the edges, black and white, taken with a new camera his father had bought his sister for her birthday, in a surprise to her and all. He smiled thinking of how happy she was that day, receiving a gift that not one other person in his little town had – no one had the money. He still wondered where his father had scrounged up the funds for it, though the memorable look of his Nora's face always allowed the investigation to remain open.

There in the picture he stood alongside his three other brothers and one sister, all towered over by their watchful father. His mother had died two years prior to this, taken by the Rust that spread throughout the rural countryside where soils had a high mineral count, easy breeding grounds for funguses and molds. His three brothers were anywhere and nowhere in this present state. All three were older; the eldest a _rhydon_ rider, the second a battlefield medic, always keeping his _kanghaskan_ 's pack full of vulnerary, bandage, and splints, and the next youngest a _rapidash_ paladin, somehow exceeding all three of them with his horsemanship. His sister was keeping the home and their father supported during wartime, and knowing she was away from the dangers of combat comforted him. He shed a tear, wondering if they would ever be back together again, just like in the picture: the twinkle in his father's eyes, the smirks in his brothers' faces, and pure radiance his sister emanated. With this thought, he picked up the Arceus trinket and closed his eyes, fingering the intricate cuts and edges of the beautiful metal. He mouthed the words he'd said since childhood:

 _Arceus, in cosmic power most prime  
Keep our family in a peaceful time  
Let the harvest reap large and the sun shine brightly  
Bless us with patience and keep us warm nightly  
And whatever the trials of life may bring  
Continuing to laud your praises, we sing  
Bless us now and bless us tomorrow  
Creator, keep us from every sorrow_

And with that, he replaced the items back underneath his pillow, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

And then everything was sound. Metal was being clanged and smacked in the dark, instantly disorienting him as he whipped his head upwards in the night.

"Oi, get up! They're coming! Move, move, move!" The shout of their Gatekeeper startled everyone in the tent, jostling them to put on their water suits, grab their weapons, and run towards the beach.

The soldiers started running with lung-tearing speed, their sprint confusingly jumbled as it was pitch-black outside.

 _What – it's them? Why would they come at night? It's too dangerous for either of us at night_. It was true, as he would observe when he approached the beach, dull constellations of red blinking scattered themselves all throughout the waters a couple hundred feet from the spring tide. _Tentacruel_ , hundreds of them, all discharging neurological synapses to attract unintelligent prey into their traps. They primarily fed on fish pokémon and wouldn't bother with any military-grade naval monster, as the likes of Abzu and the rest of its companions were too menacing or too smart to be entrapped by them. They tended to stay in the longshore bars, still too far out of range for the many-armed, alien-like pokémon.

They ran, the lot of his squadron, down to the beachhead in the dead of night, their breaths caught in their chests but oxygen somehow still in their lungs. His eyes adjusted as he looked past those ominous lights in the water, and beheld the terrifying sight.

Far past the _tentacruel_ , two small wooden corsairs approached at a quick speed, carrying what only the binoculars the soldier used could decipher: six soldiers on each ship, one flying the Sinnoh flag and the other Hoenn. Now, bounding off with a confidence that frightened him, four Hoennites mounted _milotic_ , while two from the Sinnoh jumped to the backs of their enormous _walrein_. _Floatzel_ , the same build and size as the _vaporeon_ their side had, dove off the sides of the ship and started swimming vigorously to the _tentacruel_ waters. One Sinnohan mounted a large _empoleon_ and together disappeared into the waves below. Finally, two more of the allied forces mounted gigantic _pelippers_ , their sides heavily leaning from weighty packs they carried with them.

They had never practiced drill in the night, as it was certain suicide to fight amongst the minefield that lay before them. _Tentacruel_ were dangerous. Though their hunted primarily primitive prey, they were cunning in their methods. Long arms that could paralyze and ensnare anything that moved within twenty feet near it, and their heads were able to push an immense amount of water to jet themselves closer to their dangerous, crooked, and jagged beaks.

The soldier swallowed his cowardice quickly and loudly called out to Abzu, producing a dark eruption of water within twenty seconds. He ran over to it, tied the duo's harness through the corners of its snapper jaws and around its neck, and then saddled the wide seat around its gigantic torso. He hopped on and began breathing deeply, prepping his lungs for the exercise they were about to undergo. His best record of holding his air was three minutes under physiological stressors, but now that there was blood to be shed and his heart was beating out of true fear, it might be less.

"Go, go! Stand tall, Fiore, and fight!"

It was a blur from that moment on. How discombobulating and breathtaking the water is when it hits one's goggles and wet suit, pushing back with the thrust at which your monster aggressively pushes. Abzu swam the two out to the longshore bar, and with its shell, broke the surface so its rider could check the enemy's status with the small binoculars that wrapped around his neck. And then he saw it.

Above him, the _pelipper_ pilots were dropping hand bombs into the _tentacruel_ -infested waters, causing the red blinking to initially flicker with even more ferocity, but, under the onslaught of continued explosions of the dropped grenades, recede and eventually die off. The gate that once blocked the enemy's night invasion to shore was fully opened, no longer barred by the natural habitat that was Fiore's defense. And Sinnoh-Hoenn were swimming fast.

"Get to your sectors, now! Let's go, Anchor Squad! For our country!" It was the Gatekeeper, mounted on his _kingdra_ in the waters ahead of them, pulling back on the reins with one hand, holding a harpoon gun in the other.

He already stood where he was expected to be. He was to cover Beta Sector One, a half-mile width of beachhead that started at the nearshore and extended three hundred yards forward, reaching true sea depth at the offshore edges. His _blastoise_ was well-suited for this terrain, being able to spurt long distances but not subjected to tests of swimming stamina for prolonged periods of time. The team would hopefully be able to switch between ground fighting and water fighting. This fighting designation is what they had been drilled day after long day in the sun for, and they would see this job through.

"Abzu, go!" He yelled over the sounds of bombs exploding in the water a quarter-mile in front of them and the sound of all the other soldiers breaking the ocean with their beasts. He did not know much about the tasks ahead, but he knew he had to avoid the bombs that were now taking aim at the navymen. Hopefully one of his own men would shoot them down soon enough.

Abzu dove underneath the water and reached a depth of about ten feet when they spotted their first adversaries. Two _floatzel_ , chaotic in the water, careened towards them. They had gotten a head start and cleared the _tentacruels_ as soon as they had moved away from the area.

 _Floatzel_ were rabid, water mammals, most closely related to _sentrets_ , _persian_ , and _seel_. Growing to up to four feet in length, their muscular duo tails were used for gyrating to accelerate in water or, on land, for quick turns and movements, helping them to catch their diet of fish, squid-like, and small woodland pokémon.

They dove at the pair from each side, attempting to bite Abzu's limbs. As they were paying attention to him in the first seconds, the soldier took his harpoon and thrust it at the one on his right while Abzu bit at the one on his left. Two misses, but they were already in motion again, diving upwards for the rider to catch his breath. Despite its size, Abzu could thrust itself very quickly in a range of different directions with its water cannons, having a few of them aligned in each axis, sprouting out under its shell throughout its lifetime.

Infant _blastoise_ , or _squirtle,_ developed these carapace appendages during their embryonic phase, giving them the ability to escape predators in its youth. Weak and rudimentary, they would later grow outwards and thicker to become formidable in its adulthood. _Wartortles_ would begin shooting water underneath their tongues, sharing the same common duct as their sublingual gland. By the time they could be classified as _blastoise_ , they would be able to propel jets of water at rapid pressure. These were exogenous extensions of their inner water organs, gated off via tight muscular sphincters. _Blastoise_ could determine which of these were necessary to discharge at any given time, giving it the ability to either shoot water at enemies in any direction, or boost itself forwards, backwards or sideways. Just another weapon in the arsenal that made a _blastoise_ that much more formidable in battle.

They breached the surface and quickly dove back to the depths where the _floatzel_ were, or where he thought they were. The darkness of the water made it extremely difficult to see even five feet, the only source emanating from the _tentacruel_ horde seaward, the lights now dwindling due to the bombers. Thankfully, the moon was bridging the gap, now breaking through the cloud cover and illuminating the murky waters. The moonbeams stabbed through the aqua battlefield, scattered by the ebbs and flows created by every soldier, pokémon, and weather pattern that the Brallian endured.

Just as quickly as they came, _floatzel_ dove in from the darkness and each bit onto Abzu's legs, as crazed as a wild _mightyena_. Abzu's thick blubber made this attack ineffective, but clearly still angered it greatly. It shook its limbs and jetted sideways to hopefully cast the pair aside, but they were latched on and had no intention of letting go. This was his own chance - he harpooned and easily found his target. The piercing tip impaled one of the creatures and it immediately relinquished and floated down to the watery gates of death below. Its twin opened its jaws and plunged itself towards the neck of the rider this time, its tails spinning with such rapidity they became a blur in the instant it took to reach him. He could never have been prepared for the attack, his harpoon uncoiled and his back turned to the _floatzel_. However, his _blastoise_ came to his rescue with a swift side claw, knocking it back quickly with a brute snap to its neck. It retreated in a scurry.

They were defeated, but there was more battle to be fought. They broke into the air once again and looked up. _Pelipper_ were still flying around, aiming their bombs at the beachhead, some being shot down from archers at the shore, and others making it further into Kanto-Johto territory. The soldier gritted his teeth; if this battle were to be theirs, the fight would have to be in water and land, not in air.

And then, a magnificent eruption of brine roared thirty yards away from them. A _gyarados_ -rider atop his massive pokémon sprouted sixty feet into the air with the aid of the wing-like fins it possessed, completely engulfing an entire _pelipper_ and its rider on its arc upwards into the sky. He could see the soldier literally flying out of his saddle, holding on to the reigns, his feet skywards as the pair descended back to their natural habitat. He was screaming, whether with maniacal jubilee at his pokémon's might or complete fear, it was unknown. They impacted the waves once again and disappeared into the depths. Another three seconds, and they popped out once more, aiming for another, narrowly consuming them. There, a half-mile to the southeast was the other _gyarados_ doing the same. The aviary affront was being eaten alive. Perhaps they would not all intrude through the defenses the waters held for Kanto-Johto.

His wishful thinking had gotten the better of him as he saw an _empoleon_ grandly breach the water above, reaching at least ten feet in the air, and then nose-diving towards them, an attack brought forth by sharp beak coupled with its rider's lance.

He steered Abzu to the left and held his harpoon up with his right hand to glance the rider's attack aside. Abzu growled as they disappeared below the surface near them and dove underneath after them, giving him only a slight moment to inhale to meet the depths they were about to face.

Underneath, he immediately identified their path, betrayed by a trail of bubbles left in their wake. The _empoleon_ was very fast and they hastened to catch it. Abzu was expelling its jets madly in order to gain distance on it, but it was unclear if they would be able to. The enemy was leading them deeper out to see, dodging the horde of _tentacruel_ amidst their flashing lights, matched by the flashes of bombs above. Luckily, they were deep enough at this point to most likely remain unscathed from fragments of the bombs, but it was always a hazard.

And strangely, it seemed as though there were even more bombs than before, but he couldn't worry about that now. He needed to find the _empoleon_.

It found him again, suddenly and violently sideswiping the team as a whole, dislodging him from his _blastoise_ 's back, barely hanging on to the reins. With each flash of light, he saw blood floating in the water around them like smoke, and it wasn't from him. Abzu had a gash just below its right shell, tearing one of its cannons down the middle. The direct result of the _empoleon's_ beak, a terrifying weapon.

Abzu seemed evermore determined to fight however, though, and tore off with renewed vigor after the _empoleon_. The soldier used all his strength to pull himself back into the saddle as they broke speeds he did not think were possible for Abzu, let alone with one now-defunct jet. Dodging tentacles to their right, to their left, above them, below them, they weaved through the water and air, minutes passing before they found the enemy. Abzu burst towards them, just within arm's reach of the back flippers of the cold Sinnohan bird.

And he was ready for it now.

He shot his harpoon, lancing and embedding the tip into the buttocks of the _empoleon_ , gushing forth the precious blood each soldier longed to see sprout from his adversaries. In a moment of pure adrenaline, the soldier did a rash thing he'd never thought himself capable of: recoiling the harpoon, he felt the usual tension from the flesh and bone it had lodged itself in on the pokémon. However, rather than digging his heels and resisting the tension to pull the tip out, he gave into it, releasing his feet from his stirrups and found himself propelling to the empoleon's back, now within arm's reach of the Sinnohan man. The man sitting atop the _empoleon's_ back was unable to turn around in time, and the Fioren man found it easy to get his hands around his head, and, with a quick snap, broke the rider's neck.

The man released a burst of bubbles in his last expiration. The monstrosity of the bird he was now on was still moving and the soldier saw the dead man float in space, tentacles already starting to reach out to tear him apart.

The _empoleon_ , sensing danger, started swimming towards the boat from which it came. Either from predetermined training or finding some sense of familiar safety, it was shooting back straight towards its entryway.

Air greeted his tortured lungs as they broke the surface. The _empoleon's_ dive was impressive, advancing the wall of the corsair and landing the two on the deck of the ship. He picked himself up as quickly as possible, letting go of the harpoon and unsheathing his dual trench knives and turning to the large bird.

He had but a moment to appreciate it among the chaos of the moment. The _empoleon_ stood at seven feet, with slick black downy fur that repelled water easily, streaked with blue markings, most likely for attracting mates. This was a male, quite obviously; its blue markings were thick and innate and the crown-like horn that sat atop its head was pronged and continued over a foot above its head. The exoskeletal attachment connected between its eyes and at the sharp, golden beak, slightly tapered at the end, making it all the more aerodynamic. Its flippers disguised what it hid beneath; two sharp, curled claws matching the same color as its crown and beak. Its tail resembled its flippers: a long, downy mass like a thick wooden oar that would surely break his bones if he let it hit him.

It turned and started to advance upon him immediately, cawing with a ferocity that sent a shiver down his spine more than the ice cold water of night ever could.

At that moment, Abzu launched above the ship's edge and tackled the king bird pokémon into the railings. It roared mightily and immediately started pummeling the _empoleon_ with all its strength. Clawing, grabbing, beating – it was a magnificent onslaught the soldier witnessed. The _empoleon_ attempted to fight back with its feet's talons, but was not able to do much harm on the thick underbelly of the _blastoise_.

Abzu grabbed one of the prongs of the king bird's horns and tore it straight from its root, breaking it right above the _empoleon's_ left eye. It screeched in pain, finally seeing an opening with the sudden burst of pure sound it had created. It widened its diaphragm and released a beam of pure frost and ice into the face of the Kantoan pokémon. Abzu stumbled back, still standing on its two feet, but it had given the _empoleon_ a chance to stand up. It was now crouching. It was training its razor-sharp beak on Abzu's chest, it was going to spear him…

The soldier felt his trench blade slide straight through the ribcage of the _empoleon_ with a satisfying sound of torn muscle and gurgling blood. He quickly sent the other one into its abdomen, slicing it out and downwards, pulling it out to spill its guts onto the ship's wooden planks. He dove immediately out of the way and hit the deck hard as it attempted one last time to release another ice breath and a swing of its claw before it fell forward and laid there, never to stir again.

He turned over and sat up, breathing deeply as the culmination of all that took place hit him. He thanked Arceus for still being here. He looked to Abzu.

 _Zip._ Pure lancinating pain in his right shoulder. He looked to it – an arrow stuck in two inches deep. The sight of it gave him a slight sense of shock, numbing what initial agony he felt. It had come from above; he could see it now. High atop the _murkrow's_ nest there were two archers shooting down at him. But nay, there weren't but two archers, there were six, two each in three _murkrow's_ nests, one on the mast of the mainsail, one on the foresail and the other on the mizzen. Two men sat in each nest with a large rucksack of bombs that had to weigh more than Abzu, as congregations of _pelippers_ flew and circled above each one. More rucksacks laid suspended in a dumbwaiter that was hoisted up by a pulley system from the deck of the ship near him.

And then it hit him.

The reason why he felt there were more bombs was because truly, the number _had_ increased. There were more _pelipper_ bombers now than from the initial invasion. He looked south and his heart dropped. Flocks and flocks of _pelippers_ with their leather-clad riders came, assembled in V-shaped formation. This wasn't a naval invasion. They were planning on bombing their way inland, supplied time and time again from stocks of explosives in the hulls. Both next to each other. Both within each other's blast radius. Without him doing something, the bloodshed could be enormous. Without action, these two ships could open up a path of clear destruction for more ships, full of men, ready for more bloodshed.

He thought of his brothers. He thought of his father. He thought of his sister. He knew now: he would never see them again. He would never feel the sand cross between his toes and the sun heat the back of his neck on their small town farm. He would never wrestle with his brothers again. He would never hold his father's hand into his elder age. He would never kiss his sister's brow. No longer. But if it were not for one man to step up and fight, who could the world count on? Extraordinary moments of bravery were asked of men only once, because once is all they were capable of giving. He wailed. _It has to be me. No. Oh Arceus._ He wailed more. _Arceus, take me to your countryside. Have me see them there._

It was his time. He had to act.

Another arrow zipped by as he looked to the forecastle – two men, sitting atop the bulwark had not taken notice of them yet. The waves were loudly crashing, and sight was still limited in the dead night. However, at the helm, one man had now noticed him and Abzu. He pulled his scabbard. The man had no pokémon with him. He knew what he had to do.

He ran towards the man, picking up his two daggers as he ran by the dead body of the _empoleon_ , Abzu standing still, guarding itself from the arrows. The man, not initially seeing the Kantoan and _blastoise_ at first, stopped dead in his tracks and fumbled with a horn hanging by a rope on his belt. He tried to reach the dumbfounded soldier in time, he threw his first knife at him…

The trumpet sounded across the boat, reaching the other end, hitting the ears of the men on the other side of the deck before the sound stopped as the blade cut through his neck.

The man crumpled, blood spurting from the gash from his collar, his rapid breaths widening and widening as he quickly expired.

Abzu and the soldier turned to see the men across the ship yell and draw their blades, three _floatzel_ chattering excitedly. The soldier quickly analyzed; him and Abzu were perhaps one hundred feet apart now. He looked to the helm behind him and saw the hatch which led to the hulls of the boat. The air seemed thinner as his plan became more and more concrete. He wasn't ready. _I'm not ready for this_.

"Abzu, go! Swim, boy! You must go, now!" He yelled with all his strength, making his voice harsh, cold, and imperative. He pointed towards the shoreline as he did this, knowing the creature could understand him. But Abzu stared, and the men were running, their pokémon picking up speed. Arrows were flying.

Tears streamed. "Go, you dumb beast! Fly! Shore, now!"

It stood still, looking at him with the same eyes it always had. Large, wide, eager to please, obedient until death. Its beak upturned, almost attempting to pull its masters hand up one last time, as if it needed one more scratch on its neck. The soldier cried, holding his hand up to oblige, so much distance between them. Before he could do any more, it then turned, bellowed a deep roar, and charged towards the group of five. Arrows shot from every direction now, targeting his monster, lodging themselves in its flesh, though it hardly seemed to notice as it took on the attackers.

He cried as he watched the sight, but he had to go now. He could see the flocks coming in closer and closer with each passing second. He ran over, lifted the hatch and dove in.

As he suspected, there was no one down in the stores of the ship, and the provisions ranged from food, to weapons, to bedding. He ran haphazardly throughout the enormous expanse of its belly, his tears making it hard to find what he needed. He descended another level, despairing as he furthered the distance between himself and his _blastoise_. He hoped with each stair he took further down he would hear less of Abzu's screams above.

And there he found it on the third floor below. Hundreds of bags of bombs sprawled out on the third hull below deck, some bombs rolling across the floor with each wave that tossed the boat from side to side. His heart beat astronomically fast as he ran up to the middle row and knelt next to a sack of them.

He was shaking from head to toe when he pulled out his flint from his pack and opened a large sack of the explosives. He studied them. They were so small yet so dense. Capable of so much destruction, so much death, so much pain. He wept. Wept for the war. Would anything he was about to do make any difference to the war at large? This seemed the only way to stop so much more damage. It was the only thing he could do, yet his and Abzu's sacrifice would be forgotten by the dawn of the sun.

Footsteps. They were two floors above him. The sound made him cry out as he knew his beloved Abzu was slain now. They would not have been able to enter below deck without its death. He wished he could have said something better to it than yelling at it to go. He wished he could have told Abzu that it was the greatest companion he had or would ever have. He –

"Oi! Kill him, quickly! Throat, throat, throat!"

He heard the words and he had no more time to think, no more time to lament, no more time to weep. He could not let Abzu's sacrifice go in vain. He struck the stones together, the most confident move he had made all night. The two rocks clashed and a spark was created, immediately lighting two of the bombs in the bag.

"For Arceus! For Fiore! For Abz-"


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The mud stuck to his boots with each attempt to elevate his feet, and it rang out in protest with loud squelches, joining the forty other soldiers walking along the banks of the Borovora. It had not stopped raining the past two days, giving the river a new ferocity, inhibiting the all-naval platoon from riding their pokémon down the river any longer for fear of being swept under the torrent on their way to the delta.

There were four Kanto-Johto allied Naval Fleets, all strategically positioned along the coast, protecting the sea by ship and pokémon. The major ports guarded were Vermillion, Fuschia, and Cerulean, given over two hundred men for its safekeeping. At other, smaller access points, platoons of forty men were posted. One of these places included the far southeast peninsula of Kanto, exactly to where Maven and the Abzu Platoon of the 2nd Kanto-Johto Naval Fleet were trudging on their way. A vapid place of swamps and nothingness that would be guarded in case of covert enemy intrusion. _The joy_.

It's true, entry through this southeastern peninsula was direct access to either Fuschia (and subsequently Vermillion), so it was a possibly contentious region. But if any commander thought the same way Maven and his fellow navymen did about the possibility of walking through mud that was infinitely smellier and air that was infinitely stickier than all Pokkén, then he feared he would die from exposure down in Shayminland. Or more likely, boredom.

The place had been called Shayminland for as long as he could remember, most likely for the exact dichotomous phrase that it was. Shaymin being a fairy deity of peace, gratitude, and medicine, people had ironically attributed their least favorite spot in Kanto to the pyxie, asking it to remove the swamp toxins, the quick sands, and the dangerous poisonous pokémon that slogged throughout the meaningless bogs below. Maven, already fed up with the notion he'd been spending the unforeseeable future there, liked the name Shayminland, but felt it too kind to the mire. He would rather it be called Mukfoot.

Salazar was crawling along next to him, matching his pace, though he could have sped quite happily past the entire brigade on his stomach. At this point in the muddy journey, he was more brown than the beautiful aqua blue skin that _feraligatrs_ boasted. His maw, sides, and underbelly were completely covered in filth, but he couldn't care less apparently. Mouth open with tongue dangling out, Salazar was clearly enjoying himself. Maven knew it would be difficult to tear him away from the vast quagmire that was Mukfoot. All the lounging in hot, standing water, filled with fish and vegetation that would keep Zar comfortable and well-fed for the time to come.

"Well, at least one of us is happy, huh?" The gigantic reptile turned its dumb head towards him, appearing to lazily meet Maven's gaze with its large crocodilian smile, and abruptly slid right towards him, forcing him to quickly dislodge his sticky grip to the ground and jump for fear of Salazar running him over.

He jumped and landed on the _feraligatr's_ back and laughed heartily. "You oaf! What're you doing?" He laughed as his monster continued onwards, happily humbling himself as a ferry along the Borovora mudbanks, giving Maven a much-needed respite. Maven smiled as they slipped past the other men, hearing chuckles and taunts as the pair passed them all. He hadn't smiled since he left Ecruteak, where his family and Coda were still.

It had been only two weeks, but it hurt Maven all the same to be gone for so long from Coda. They had always done everything together. They had grown together, tended to the farm together, went off to study at the University together. It all seemed so long ago, even Goldenrod. He wished they could have fought together, side by side. He hadn't had the chance to send a letter home due to the nature of their travels, but it would be the first thing he would do when they reached base camp in Shayminland. He prayed that Arceus take care of Coda and help him pass his trials.

Another few hours had passed before darkness introduced itself along the riverbanks, to which the soldiers responded with glad tidings. They were all exhausted from their seemingly fruitless expedition to their dreaded assignment. Though many were from all around Kanto-Johto, they bonded very quickly over their collective misery. The weather had subsided, leaving them with wet grounds but clear skies, showcasing all the stars the heavens had to offer them. They would have warmth tonight.

He found himself surrounded by new comrades, people with whom he may find himself fighting foe or boredom in the coming months. Around the fire they all sat, their pokémon either curled around their feet or laying near them in some aspect. The Abzu Platoon had been named after a _blastoise_ and man who went above and beyond the call of duty in the War for the North, in the battle of Beak and Bombs off the south coast of Fuschia. They had died heroes, and Fiore would always remember the they had made for the battle to be won. Because Abzu the _blastoise_ was both an aquatic and terrain fighter, this platoon specialized in utilizing pokémon that could fight both inside and outside of water. This was also the most likely reason for their assignment to Mukfoot. Swamps could not harbor _gyarados_.

To his right was Hrunvo Clearpetal, a tall, skinny man, aged thirty years. He nibbled on bits of bread as if he was full, but as the entire platoon knew at this point, the man lived on nothing. He was a kind, simple, gentle fisherman in his past life, used to spending months aboard boats, surviving bellowing seas and harsh winds, all for _krabby_ and _seel_. His trusted _vaporeon_ bitch slept doggedly at his feet, wiggling its nose whenever a crumb trickled from its master's mouth down to its spot below. Hrunvo had acquired the _vaporeon_ when it was only an _eevee_ kit and the time at sea had caused the miraculous metamorphosis of which _eevees_ were irrationally capable. _Something about induction of cell growth factors by repeated saline exposure_ , Maven mulled in his mind, echoing a lesson Coda had academically taught him from years ago upon Maven's inquiry into the subject of _eevee_ evolution. He made fun of it, but now, Maven would have listened for hours if Coda could have been there now. He would have cherished it, just as he knew Coda would cherish seeing all new sorts of pokémon out in the world. _What a nerd_.

To his left, drinking from a large _mareep_ -skin pouch, was Bartley Finster, but everyone called him Knuckles. That was Bartley's first sentence, in fact. _I'm Bartley, but you can call me Knuckles_ , he had said to him. Turns out Bartley was an amateur boxer, ultimately leading him to nowhere productive in life except the bars to eat his paychecks alive. Alcoholic would have been a stretch, but almost within reach of description for Knuckles. When it came time for the draft, it appeared that purpose was just what he had been looking for. Knuckles claimed he was three months sober now, and Maven hoped to Arceus himself that the now empty pouch the rather stout and portly twenty-eight-year-old threw down was not wine or mead.

Obnoxiously behind him croaked his two _poliwrath_ , which, rather macabrely, were his previous boxing partners at the gym he used to frequent. Alo and Ulu he called them, and they seemed quite terrible.  
Incredibly annoying and callous monsters but also incredibly strong and frightening. About four feet from head to toe with extremely springy arms and legs, one punch from these creatures would send another monster careening backwards.

Surrounding other fires were other groups of soldiers he had befriended over the journey, but something about these two had given him a glimpse of home. They were an earthly bunch. They were honest men and at heart, wanted to keep their country safe. Hrunvo had a way to uncovering beautiful truths in his scant conversation, and always made Maven feel like he was truly being listened to. His hands were worn and eyes were quiet, but they pierced through, like a star in the night sky. It gave him the impression that he had seen things out on the sea that gave him insight, something that only he could have experienced.

Knuckles was rowdy, and garrulous, always exciting. He memorized and recited jokes all day long, some cruder than others, but giving energy and vitality to their platoon, and mirth to their dreary days. He would slap Maven across the shoulders at any moment and ask how he was doing. His voice boomed, it carried gravity, and invited respect and friendship. They were good friends.

They were, however, nothing compared to Coda. _Even Dewey_. _Arceus, I cannot believe I'm thinking this._

A unique phenomenon that Maven had observed was how similar a trainer and his pokémon were to each other. Whether by nurture or nature this occurred was a mystery to him, but he found it oddly consistent. Hrunvo Clearpetal was soft-spoken and stoic, enjoying the calmer things in life like the book in his hands now, reading by the firelight. This was reflected as such in his _vaporeon_ Ibisa who calmly sat by his side and rarely acted out on him throughout the day. It needed little to no discipline or guidance and absolutely no entertainment for it to do its bidding. Knuckles was awry, goofy, and arrogant, and Alo and Ulu were of the same vine, constantly fighting amongst each other over scraps of food or their master's attention. He thought he should tell Coda and Dewey his observations when they saw each other next.

He turned to Salazar, sleeping like a limp log on its belly behind him. _What similarities do we share? What did I impart on you, O master of water and tooth?_ Zar was headstrong and picked fights eagerly, he found. Even the smallest of bird pokémon that pecked at the lichen or bugs that covered his spikes irritated Salazar into a rage worthy of his energy misspent on snapping them wholly out of the sky, and it took firm discipline the first few days of their trip to ensure he would not retort to all the wary snarls that the other platoon pokémon gave the large water reptile. And aside from this, Salazar loved folly, an example being today, playfully snatching him up for a mudslide of a ride down the Borovora banks, enjoying the fun as much as Maven did.

 _A bond with a beast is a bond indeed._

One by one the soldiers retreated to their tents for sleep, using their standard military-issued tarps for cover. It wasn't much but walking twenty miles per day for two weeks had a habit of giving the soldiers no complaints about their nighttime surroundings.

Maven pulled the dark green tarp out of his bag and rolled it out next to Salazar, intending to use his body heat to keep himself warm throughout the night in addition to the still-burning fire. He wrapped himself up, hearing the gurgling of the soggy ground beneath him, and he looked up to the night sky. He thought about the note he would write home when he'd arrive in Shayminland in just another week.

 _Hello Mother,_

 _I hope you've been well. I'm writing from here in the Shayminland, on the outer reaches of Kanto. Never would I have thought I'd be out here, among the flowers and beautiful marshes of the southeast. I'd love to visit with you and Father someday._

 _There is no need to worry, though I appreciate your prayers to our mighty Arceus and I feel Its strength supplying me through my travels and watch of the coast. Gatekeeper Ironeye says that this is very low-risk territory._

 _I am well-fed, and my companions are kind and patient. They have supported me in the long journey here and we give each other strength. Salazar has loved the waters here. It will be quite hard to tear him from this oasis. I wish I could paint the splendors of Shayminland to you, but my words describing the gentle pools of sweet-smelling waters brimmed by miraculously blue lilies must do you justice for now._

 _Gatekeeper Ironeye says the war is progressing like a_ caterpie _, with many skirmishes but no true advances from either side. I must be here as long as I am called to be, but please remember I am in the place of the fairies. I hope to see one in person if I am so lucky._

 _I pray that the farm stays well-tended and the town is adjusting to the wartime preparations. May you and Father stay warm and safe and pray that I may continue to keep watch for our Lady Fiore. I will write again as soon as I am able._

 _Love,_

 _Maven_


End file.
